The Lost Boys
by sendohime
Summary: What you do to A, you must do to B, in order to not disrupt the variables. A push in the right direction is all the Glade needs, but what exactly, she'll never know. She was no coincidence, she wasn't a glitch in the system. Without knowing it, she infiltrated their Neverland. Slight AU, Newt/OC
1. Chapter 1

"Let's push through with this." a voice said, determination in his voice. It was also part restlessness, the way his tone dropped and the natural crescendo in his voice deepened. "They'll listen to me, I'm sure of it."

"We can't alter this trial, it's the very first—"

"It's been nearly three years. And Group B is already cracking the code, it's extremely jumbled, but they got _FLOAT, _and they have more people." he paused, expecting a reply of agreement, but when he didn't he went on. "They'll agree, it'll move things forward without disrupting the order."

"This isn't a video game, Tom." the feminine voice replied, steely and firm. The faint whirring of overheated fans and blips of electronic receivers interrupted her thoughts. She frowned at the operating table, empty, for now. "There is well over fifty males in A, they could very well kill her, or worse," she shook her head, she knew it was something that her companion wouldn't understand. "It's too big of a jump, too soon."

"Or, it will speed things up. We can end this, soon enough."

The magic words of "end this" sprung her to life, and her glare softened, like a budding flower relaxing her petals open. She had to trust him, the only person she could trust was Tom. "Fine," she conceded, turning her back and typing rapidly on the transparent screens. "But what we do to A, we do to B. Switch Seong from A to B," she slowly dragged a girl's profile to the other side of the computer, the tip of her nail grazing the visage softly, as if she'd ruin it. "she'll hate us."

Tom shook his head, and placed his hand over hers, "No, because WICKED is good."

* * *

She cried out, a feeling so animal and required, as she felt the bile rapidly building up her trachea. Swallowing, only more acid forced its way out, bits either blazing into her lungs or ejected under the holey, metal frame. Crawling to the edge, she coughed, and she felt eerily light as she was being ejected higher and higher up.

A clue, she hoped, as she ripped open the nearest can, hoping to find something. Her hair fell into its contents as she forced her nose against the rim. "Coffee," she breathed out, her hands patting the distinct marron grit.

But why was coffee easier to remember than herself?

The metal prison lurched to a quick stop, over half the coffee dust spilling over her lap. And the sirens she never noticed halted, and her ears rung in reply. For some reason, an inner being made her feel guilty for opening up a container that wasn't hers, and she hastily smacked the top together.

And all at once, the roof opened. The sun beat down on her like a yellow drum, her eyes facing the rapture. She winced, but didn't move her hand forward, there was too much pain to cover up with just her open palm.

For a second, she wondered if she was expected to climb to the top. But the sirens faded, and the voices emerged.

A tall, strong figure jumped into the metal prison without haste, and she gasped, fearing his weight would send them back to wherever she came from. His dark skin contrasted against the bright sky. Her fingers dug mercilessly into the metal, scared.

"Hey, Greenie." it sounded like a greeting so natural, but for some reason when he said it, he regretted the words right as they escaped his mouth. He looked like a teenager, maybe a little older, but a kid, just like her. His eyes searched for more, as if he was seeing an apparition, but remained stagnant. "I'm Alby."

"Is that my name, Greenie?" she whispered, her fingers debating on whether to hold on tighter, or find refuge in his open hand.

"No, just for now." he almost smiled, shaking his head. "Do you remember your name?"

"It's," her head buzzed, searching for the void.

"It's okay," his voice was like a rich chocolate, deep but level. "It'll come back, I promise."

Her name? She lost her name? How could she lose a thing so valuable, she wanted to cry, and blame herself for losing a thing so important.

"Ay Alby!" a voice echoed from above, "What's taking ya so long? Is he dead or what?"

Alby looked to her, "Hold tight, Greenie." and before she could protest, she was scooped away, and being lifted into the bright light. Her body felt airy against his arms, as she was gently dropped onto the grass. Little did she know, she was in the middle of an audience, and she was the main attraction.

"Shuck it," someone said, "I think I've died and gone to heaven."

"Is that real?" she felt like she was an animal in a zoo.

"She kinda reminds me of Minho."

"Alright, slim it." another boy stepped up in front of her and Alby, but his lithe frame did nothing to block her. His hair was like unpolished bronze, dirty blond and swept over his forehead. While he sounded commanding, the purity in his bright brown eyes hinted at a bit of playfulness. "I think she's done being gawked at. The Greenie's Alby's, at least until the tour." he nodded helpfully, taking a side glance to the young lady.

She slowly got to her feet, and felt Alby nudge her with his shoulder, it hit the tip of her forehead. "Then we should get started," he grunted, his posture straighter as he gave a run through of the group of boys, still frozen. "Get back to work!"

The younger girl winced at the sudden spike in volume, and her hand flew to her hair, tugging. The group of boys dissolved like water, wandering off separate areas of the field. It was then, she noticed that it was almost pastoral, watching them. They had a garden eastward, and many animals braised by a haphazardly built red building. She would've felt even more free, if it weren't for the large grey slabs of rock surrounding the premises. Before she could question it, someone interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm Newt." the blond boy stuck out his hand with a grin, and she noticed the grime lining his teeth, she tried not to make her disgust apparent. She hoped it was from breakfast and would be gone by tonight.

Newt, like the rodent? Was what she would've asked if she had no filter, but instead distracted herself with a barely there smile. She firmly grasped his hand, shaking it to check if he was real. He squeezed back and smiled harder. "I'm—"

"The Greenbean of the month." he supplied for her, "and possibly the She-bean for the rest of our lives. Pleasure." he patted Alby on the back. "These bloody crops won't harvest themselves. I'll see you two later." and he went away like the others, towards the gardens.

She almost didn't want him to go, and turned almost desperately towards Alby. "If you want to cry, I can take you inside and leave you alone." his expression held no sympathy, "tour's tomorrow, better be up early."

"Can I take the tour now?" it was the first coherent sentence she managed to spit out.

"Eager, aren't you?" he said wryly.

"I think I'll go crazy if I'm left alone to think."

"Fine, but no questions."

Alby seemed pleased that the new Greenbean was so, complacent. And she was more than willing to follow. These guys had to be safe, at least for the moment. They were just kids, they all were, but they almost looked like they were thriving, the way they mulled about the Glade, as Alby called it. All the questions she had been piling up were slowly decreasing as the tour went on, going from area to area. She was a Greenbean because she was new, and someone new came up the metal box every month, and it's been that way for two years. Greenbeans were either confused, terrified, sometimes violent, but all of them just as empty as she was. Supplies came every week. There was a leader, a Keeper, for every job The Glade offered, and by tomorrow she'd need to go around and find the one that was right for her.

She asked one question, and maybe because she was so quiet Alby decided to answer it. "Why?"

"You seem smart." the compliment didn't faze her, "we were put here for a reason. The reason is fuzzy, but we have the gist of it. I can't explain everything now, or you'll be all jacked up for trying to take it all in."

Her body started to heat up, the pent-up frustration finally building. "You can't just leave?"

Alby's eyes darkened to an even darker black, if that were possible. "Never go outside the Glade."

The statement chilled her insides, "I'm the only girl." she stated, solemn.

"You are." and Alby looked just as perturbed. "Right now we don't know what that means, so we're taking our chances with you."

Just from her gender, she was an outsider. But from the fine wrinkles between his forehead and the defensive gaze he always wore, she could tell that he was saying it for their own safety. He was scared, just like her.

"That boy," her thoughts drifted off to the blond from before. Did the boy trust her?

"Newt?" the name rolled off Alby's tongue so comfortably. "Believe me, he'll do anything for anybody. You don't have to worry about him."

But the fact that Alby had to insist that Newt was safe, only made her even more uncomfortable.

"This ended smoother than I thought." Alby said bashfully, rubbing his neck. She knew he said that so she'd stop asking questions. "Frypan'll fix you something to eat, c'mon."

The sun was ready to dip, melting in the cloudless sky. It was only two steps in that she felt the ground rattle under her. Her heart palpitated against her chest, and she looked at the young man, who was unfazed. The Glade was moving, the _walls _were moving. It grumbled and heaved, gears forcing the walls together. It terrified her.

"Never go outside the Glade." Alby repeated, and walked away, and this time he didn't bother waiting for her.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She knew it from the beginning, could she even remember how to sleep? Should she even be living with a brain so empty?

Gladers were moving about, lethargic as they searched for their sheets in the Homestead. None of them had bothered to talk to her, at least not yet. Pretending not to notice, she knew from their endless stares that they were more than eager to meet the new (and only) girl.

The night sky was like a vacuum, empty and motionless. There were no stars, and she longed for the scintillating balls of hydrogen. She knew that the Glade seemed almost too convenient, too contrived to be real. Whoever put them there must've knew stars were unnecessary, because whatever they were doing was hopeless.

From the sky, the next highest thing were the walls. They were far away from her, literally, but she felt like she was suffocating in the metal box all over again.

"Greenie?" she looked up from her sitting position, it was Newt. "Here, write with this."

He bent down and handed her a piece of paper and pencil. She took the items dumbly, holding them like she had never seen them before.

"Sometimes, the box takes requests." he took the patch of grass next to her, and she noticed how he paid careful attention to one leg as he sat down. "You should make a wish or something, you might be blessed." he teased lightly, "but seriously, in case you need, you know, girl stuff."

She wanted to know if he was blushing or not, but the small lamps were only giving her shadows. Scrawling down a couple of things, she folded it twice and handed it to Newt.

He promptly grabbed the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, and gratefully he didn't even bother to ask what she wrote.

Suddenly, a mortifying shriek erupted throughout The Glade, the sound breaking into the Homestead. She clutched the thin blanket close to her chest, and a loud crackly groan screamed in reply. She shivered like a cold winter morning. It was coming from the walls, and Alby's words soon resurfaced.

"Hey," Newt had his arms sprawled over his knees, looking at her like she were a fragile doll. The way his eyes harbored so much honesty, she felt her initial distrust towards him start to melt away. "Those buggers won't get ya. Nothing will get in and hurt you, as long as you stay here." but what wasn't going to hurt her, besides her lack of sanity?

She wanted to believe him. "That's good." she managed to say.

"Good that." Newt corrected, smiling boyishly.

* * *

(a/n) Hey guys! In this ff, movie-verse and book-verse are slightly jumbled, for example Grievers are slugs, but Newt's portrayal (who doesn't love Sangster) is movie-verse. I can't really imagine a muscular Newt, I just can't. They're kids barely nearing the edge of adulthood. My original idea was to start off from _Scorch Trials_ and work from there and... Newt's future situations to _Death Cure_. However, the Glade is probably the flattest part of the series where you can actually you know, be somewhat peaceful with people and attempt a relationship. I wish I had the ability to convey emotion and turmoil towards the end of the trilogy, but not right now.

Please enjoy, and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

It was early morning when she woke up, the sun barely at its rise. But over fifty sleeping boys was more than enough incentive to use the bathhouse. The thought of bathing naked in the middle of the day was horrifying, maybe even more than the grey stoned walls. She wrung her hair over the sink, and looked at her reflection, it was something remotely familiar, which she relished in.

The petite stature, and the way her skin glowed against her dark, straight hair. It was her, whoever that was. Her fingers poked at her flesh, watching it turn red. She was still alive, still in the Glade.

"Mornin' Greenbean." Frypan greeted her upon entering the kitchens, tossing and turning some concoction on a rusty cast iron pan. "You're up early."

"So are you."

"Gotta be if I gotta feed everyone." he seemed almost protective of his kitchen, and she found it quite admirable how he invested so much passion into his job. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to see if you still had that coffee." she said shyly, feeling intrusive.

Frypan paused for a moment, and his eyes lit up at the revelation. "Coffee, that's what it is." he replied, amazed. "Yeah, we got it when you came in, I don't know how to make it though."

Surprisingly enough she knew, "I think I do."

It was natural to her, as she folded away the filter and steeped boiling water into a saucepan. She wondered why she remembered how to brew, but the act momentarily distracted her which was more than enough to calm her nerves. Eventually, Frypan kicked her out and told her to finish outside because the smell was starting to seep into the food. She didn't mind, and continued to pour the velvety concoction into a milk and sugar mixture at a table nearby.

"So it's true, there is a girl in the Glade."

Another boy, no surprises there, but one she hadn't seen before. He noticed the way his eyes smiled like crescents, just like hers, and recollected the way a Glader compared her resemblance to another back at the Box. But he seemed fatigued, eternally, but extremely fit with biceps and a firm torso that only hard work would account for.

"I'm Minho." he sat down next to her, maybe a little too close for comfort. "You got a name, Greenie?"

She would never admit it, but she like being called Greenbean. While the name was a tease to the newbies, she couldn't help but feel underlying endearment towards it. Greenie was affectionate, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt affection. "Eventually." she replied cynically.

"Good that." he nodded, "Any of these shanks bother you yet?"

Little by little, the slang was starting to desensitize her. She was truly among a unique bunch. "Not particularly. I was just wondering, Newt is an okay guy, right?" She remembered his words the previous night, but she wanted more than just Alby's word, despite him being their alleged leader. It wasn't wise of her to go around asking strangers about strangers, especially with the way boys talked, but her mind was still fuzzy from the previous day and wasn't entirely awake.

Minho chuckled, actually cracked a grin, and suddenly didn't seem so broody. "Newt?" he barked incredulously. "He's probably the safest shuck around, you can trust him more than anybody. If there's guys you should be worried about, worry about Gally."

"Who's Gally?" she asked, feeling naive.

"Oh, you'll know." he gestured to the open pot, "Can I try some?"

She quickly poured him a cup, and then herself. Minho blew at the mug, taking a tentative sip. Instantly, a moan escaped his lips and he started drinking more of the hot liquid like it was a golden ambrosia. "Wow, this is good." and he took off his pack and started filling some in a thermos.

The door across from them swung open, and in came a pack of Gladers.

"I swear, not even twenty-four hours and you lose the only bloody girl in the Glade—oh, there she is."

Minho elbowed her side, while she stepped on his foot.

"What is this, tea time?" Newt grinned, grabbing her mug and taking a sip of the coffee. He coughed, and his face scrunched together, gagging. "The hell is this klunk?"

Minho laughed shamelessly, "More for me, then."

"I guess it's an aquired taste." the girl said.

"I'm out," Minho lugged his pack over his shoulder, taking another swig of coffee. "see you guys later."

And he ran.

"Where is he going?"

"The Maze, obviously."

_The Maze?_

Something told her she wasn't supposed to know, because Newt smacked the person who answered none-too-gently on the stomach. "Come on, Greenie." he pushed the other boys off of him, as if he were some sort of martyr protecting her. "Day one in the gardens."

* * *

"So Minho runs in there?"

Newt rolled his eyes, making a big display of his displeasure. He pulled at the metal vines holding certain vegetables together, making sure they wouldn't fall. She wouldn't leave it alone. "Of course he does, he's a Runner."

"What's that?"

"I've said too much." he sighed, stabbing his spear into the ground. He hauled two buckets, and threw one to the girl. Unceremoniously, she catched the heavy piece of metal in her arms, glowering at him. "Something tells me you weren't born to be a Track-hoe."

She grumbled under her breath, following Newt. She liked not getting preferential treatment for being a girl, but she hated gardening even more. "So then what are you?" she asked, holding the bucket tighter in her arms. She jogged towards him as he treaded into the forest, their bodies only a foot apart. Not even a couple of feet out, and she could feel herself start to sweat and breathe in bursts.

"Former Runner, now second-in-command." the blond replied shortly, pointing his scooper downard. She remembered the way he was careful of his one leg, probably the reason he had an early running career. "I'll dig up some fertilizer here, go on the other side."

Frowning, she turned her back when she knew Newt wasn't going to continue her tirade. She couldn't blame him, and decided to give him a break as she delved further into the wood. She had no hoe with her, so she scooped up some dirt with her bucket. A bundle of spiky, succulent-type plants were off in the corner, where light shone at its peak. Again, it was another anomaly that looked out of place. She pulled at the stemless, fleshly leaves and cracked one open. Intrigued by the slow, syrupy gel escaping from it, she emptied her bucket and started to put more stalks in.

A tiny, barely-there red light was three feet from where she was standing. It was behind a dead, still standing tree, scuttling forward. Bucket abandoned, she stepped forward ever the slightest, knees bent. The body was a sleek silver, with at least seven pairs of spider-like legs. It seemed so out of place, then again they all seemed out of place. Across its torso, the word _WICKED_ was painted in rouge. She lifted her hand, and its sharp, blade pincers bared in reply. Its light body pounced.

"Get away!"

All of a sudden her body was flung backward, and she lost her footing as a pair of arms wrapped around her body as they tumbled down the forest, twigs and leaves meeting their fall. She shrieked, and buried her head into the person's neck as their bodies thrashed downard. Soon enough they stopped on flat ground, and Newt snapped his head up.

"Are you crazy? Never touch the Beedle Blades!" He looked angry, and she was just as upset for angering him, but didn't understand why. "Unless you want your fingers sliced off, don't ever bloody touch them!"

What a nuisance she was, a bother to all the Gladers. She couldn't even get damn fertilizer, and the alleged nicest guy in the Glade probably hated her too. "Sorry." she murmured guiltily, looking down at his pumpkin orange tank.

Short, even breaths escaped the two of them as they rested in the dead leaves.

"You're not hurt anywhere, right?" he asked softly, and if it was even possible, worriedly. His bright, brown eyes were like a beacon, and she couldn't help but follow the light. It was so strange, but strangely comforting the way all his anger disappeared in a matter of seconds.

"You're not mad?" she replied with her own question, stunned at his sincerity.

He shook his head, and smiled softly, "No, just startled. I can't blame you for being curious, we all were. I promise, in time you'll know everything that we know. We won't leave you in the dark."

She thought back to the black, suffocating metal box, and she could only hope. "Your leg," she realized, her eyes widening to his bottom half. "It's okay?"

Newt forced a little half-smile, which was strangely sad, "Yeah, thanks for noticing. C'mon," he started to get up, pulling away from her body. "we should go to the Med-jacks, just in case."

She lifted her head, her insides swimming as she frantically grabbed his arm. "Wait!" she blinked multiple times, to check that this wasn't a dream.

"What is it?"

"Theo." and she grinned, so hard that she felt like her mouth was moving on its own. "That's my name, Theo."

"Theo," he repeated, just as happy at her revelation. With his accent, the name came out a little like "Thea" but she didn't mind. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Then Theo, welcome to the Glade."

As soon as Newt dropped her off in the Med-jacks' tent, he mentioned something about Alby needing him and left Theo to Clint and Jeff. She only had a scratch on her knee, but it made her wonder if Newt was really okay because he took the brunt of their fall.

A pale boy with almost transparent skin stepped into their tent, breathing like he was in pain. His face was an an exaggeratedly flushed pink, and it extended from his face to his upper arms.

"Billy," Jeff said, "You look like a ripe tomato."

"Slim it, shuck face." Billy grumbled, and gingerly sat in the cot next to Theo, trying not to move a muscle. He winced, explaining that the sun was just too damn hot for him. In actuality, the Glade never got extremely hot or extremely cold, but his skin just had to be extremely cottony and sensitive. "Do you have the sunscreen?"

"Sunscreen _prevents_ sunburn, it doesn't treat it." Jeff explained, crossing his arms. "We can put cold water on it and let you rest inside in the meantime."

"I have an idea," Theo interjected, and turned pink at the three pairs of eyes on her. But it didn't stop her from remembering the bucket filled with the strange plant. It had to help somehow, otherwise it would never have been grown in the first place. She plopped off the mat and ripped away a piece of the succulent, ready to crack it open.

"Whoa there, Greenbean." Clint held his arms out, as if she were about to set off a bomb. "How do you know it's not poisonous? Or that it's going to burn off Billy's skin even more?"

"I think, it's _aloe._" she said to herself, her eyes scrutinizing every inch of the plant. Aloe was good, at least that what she thought. "Can't you trust me, isn't that what Gladers thrive on?" she was challenging their system, only a day in. If she asked Alby or Minho, they'd probably turn her down in an instant.

"Just do it." Billy cut in, writhing in his exposed skin. At this point, anything would've helped the poor pink boy.

Jeff and Clint exchanged looks, muttering something about this being all jacked up, and stepped aside.

She bit her lip, and broke the stem in half, the watery liquid oozing into her palm. Carefully, she walked over to Billy, gently rubbing the honey-like substance across his arms. The cool material immediately caused Billy's muscles to relax, and to her satisfaction he sighed in content. This encouraged her to grab another leaf, and with a feather-like touch she spread the aloe to his cheekbones. His arms were starting to return to their original, paper-like color. Billy soon felt at ease and relaxed on the cot, falling into an easy nap.

"Where did you find that?" Clint asked, mesmerized by the sudden turn of events.

"In the forest." Theo replied simply, "and it looked fresh, I don't think it needs water to grow."

Jeff and Clint exchanged looks, and whatever they mentally exchanged they seemed to both agree.

"Looks like we found our new Med-jack."

After that, Alby insisted that Theo finish exploring the other jobs throughout the week before settling on Med-jack, and she complied because either way, she was going to be a Med-jack. She needed to be one, she was sure of it, it was the only way she'd want to perform her part to the Glade.

As long as she survived a day with the Builders.

She heaved another breath, as her arms protested against the heavy plank of wood she was supporting as another hammered at it. Being a Builder, was definitely not the job for her. Her hair was damp and fell over her face like a black curtain, making her even hotter when the sun absorbed her dark charcoal shirt and black cotton shorts. She huffed and puffed with the immense weight bringing her down, willing herself to steady her lungs.

"Gally'll be impressed by your strength," a low whistle emitted from her partner, thankfully drilling in the last screw. "You sure you don't want to be a builder?"

She smiled gratefully, no matter how hard it pained her. It was nice to know that she was wanted. "I'm not that strong, but thanks. I'm pretty dead set on being a Med-jack."

He shrugged, "Suit yourself, Greenbean."

Backing away from their handiwork, she nodded to her companion, satisfied with re-boarding the wall of the bathhouse.

"Looks beautiful." they turned towards an authoritative builder. Theo had a feeling it wasn't the bathhouse he saw being beautiful. "I'm Gally, Keeper of the Builders. Theo, am I wrong?"

"No, you're right." she said, patting her palms against her thighs. She didn't feel like feeding his ego any longer, so she kept her stance with her dead-on eye contact. "Am I done for today?"

He shrugged, "For you? Maybe. I suggest you rethink Med-jack, because I think you have _perfect _hands to get the job done." with a suggestive, less words than needed smirk, he turned away to evaluate the other builders.

The boy next to her didn't seem to understand Gally's double entendre, "So that means,"

Theo firmly shook her head. "Please don't make me answer that."

With the okay to leave, Theo returned to the Med-jack tent, where Clint and Jeff were checking out supplies. She didn't want to spend another minute building, or near Gally, who definitely rubbed her the wrong way.

"Got a minute, Theo?" Jeff asked, rolling away a piece of gauze.

"Yeah?" her light voice trilled in the small room.

"We're going back to the Homestead to check on a couple Gladers, a Slicer shuckin' cut his elbow open." Jeff shook his head, because only Slicers could manage cutting away at their elbow, of all places. "So would you mind clearing up the inventory, and get more of that aloe voodoo from yesterday?"

She felt like a Med-jack already, and she didn't mind one bit. "Yeah, no problem."

The duo grabbed a couple more gauze and towels before opening the cloth fold. "Oh yeah, the Box came in, your stuff's on the table." Clint gestured to the small cardboard package between the clipboards.

Theo wordlessly got to work, making sure her hands were clean before she started touching all the medical equipment. The Med-jacks mostly served first aid, but she shivered at the thought of them applying stitches when she applied the plastic stoppers on the scalpels and covered the Kelly clamps. It was like the Glade's own little infirmary, and she was a part of it. She grabbed an empty plastic box and her package before heading off into the forest.

She gazed at the package, almost in a trance. It had been one week since she was sent to the Glade, unbelievably. So far, she was doing okay, keeping up with fifty other guys. As she walked further up, she noticed that many of the Gladers were by the Maze, awaiting the tired Runners. Treading further into the forest she noted that there was only one aloe plant in sight, she frowned. She'd either hope that there was more or find a way to dilute or grow the aloe serum. She'd look for more, because she knew it was going to get dark soon. The Maze was closing at the same time she deposited the plant in her box, safely derooted. She started running deeper into the forest, careful of her tripping (Alby had mentioned "Deadheads" once or twice, and she prayed that she was nowhere near that.)

Theo clutched her throat, trying to ignore the prickling sensation in her neck. She breathed in and out, hoping to grab some air, but it was like catching stars, useless. In a frenzy she ripped open the package, finding what she was looking for. There was an underwear set, socks, tampons, but it wasn't what she wanted now. She forgot many things since arriving, but the word _Inhaler_ seemed like a term she'd never lose.

The metal and plastic handheld rattled in her hands. She was starting to feel better already since she was no longer running, but she wanted to make sure of herself. She was sure she wasn't _allergic _to running, just deterred.

But when she pressed the handle, no air came out.

She rattled the damn thing, hoping it was stuck. Instead, she heard a faint rustling inside. Confused, she ripped open the cartridge. Instead of gaseous medicine, there was a piece of paper, Theo's stomach dropped at the sender's elusiveness.

_Remember the variables._

And for the first time since she arrived, Theo cried.

She didn't know why she cried, but her heart ached at the thought, dull and lasting. But it must have been a long time, because by then the Maze already closed and the sky had started to turn purple. This definitely wasn't no mistake, this message was meant for her. She meant something to this Maze. Treading a hand through her hair, she stuffed the paper back in the inhaler, and into the cardboard cover.

"You seriously got to stop running off like this."

She tensed, and immediately swiped her face over her eyes to collect any stray tears. Newt was next to her, crossing his arms.

"You're our only girl, it's kind of easy to notice when you disappear." he held up a white sack, "You skipped dinner."

"I'm not hungry." she replied softly, turning her head.

Newt immediately sensed the discomfort and sat down next to Theo. He looked up, trying to think of the right words to say, especially to a girl on the verge of breaking down, he wasn't too good in that department. "Have you been crying?" he didn't mean for it to come out so blunt, but he didn't want to beat around the bush too hard. Besides, the puffiness in her eyes and the slight trembling were a dead giveaway.

"Yeah." she said, turning her head.

He liked her honesty. "It's alright if you did, no one will judge." his frown deepened when she didn't reply. "Trust me, things seem bad now. But eventually we'll all leave the Maze and get back to our families."

His optimism did nothing to calm her down, "How can you lie like that, when everything isn't okay?" she said levelly, digging her heels in the dirt. "Does anyone even really know what's going on, why would anyone want to leave a bunch of kids out here like this?"

"I don't know." Newt confessed, and at that moment he didn't seem much like a leader. "But if they really wanted us dead, they would've done it three years ago." he opened the white sack that was on his lap, and pushed a slice of bread to her mouth. "Next time you cry, make sure it isn't alone." he pursed his lips as he surveyed the darkness, before breaking into a heart stopping grin. "Shuck, how are you not afraid of being here at night? This place is creepy. Let's go."

* * *

Theo took Newt's words to serious thought as the days went on. He was right, if whatever was behind this really wanted them dead, they would have done it a long time ago. But at the same time, maybe they were waiting for the right moment to extinguish them. Or maybe, she was the first female of many and they were expecting them to procreate a new civilization. She thought about Gally's comment and immediately erased that idea.

Alby was justified in keeping a watchful eye on her. Girls didn't just come to the Glade. Maybe she was here for a reason, and the inhaler in her pocket reminded her of that all too well. If only she could remember what a damn variable was.

She was up early again, but instead of going to the kitchens, she was waiting by the Maze. Her stomach did uncomfortable, squishy flops as she got closer and closer to the doors, wanting to do her business and be done with it. Carefully, she peered her head towards the open doors, and absorbed the musty, dimly lit terrain of vines and uneven stone. It got darker and darker, and she could barely make up the next five feet after, and felt a surge of admiration for Runners who were brave enough to go in there daily.

"What do you want, She-bean?" Minho appeared jogging up to her, in all his tired and tanned glory. He eyed her hands which held a steaming mug of coffee, and didn't hesitate in taking up the offering.

"You're the Keeper of the Runners, right?"

"Yeah," he gulped up the hot drink.

"Can you help me with something?"

His upper lip twitched in apprehension. "What is it?"

"I want to run."


	3. Chapter 3

Minho laughed, he seriously laughed, as if it were the most impossible thing in the world.

"Really, Greenie?" he blurted, but not loud enough to wake the other Gladers. "Do you want to die?"

"Not like that." Theo grumbled, crossing her arms.

"What happened to being a Med-jack? Too cushy for you to stay in your tent?" he shook his head, "You don't just go into the Maze."

"It's only a precaution." she confessed, pulling the inhaler out of her pocket. "The box actually sent me medicine. In a way, I'm allergic to running." she wanted to smack herself at the blatant lie, because in reality the inhaler had no throat relaxants and it was in essence, a breathing problem. If she was really allergic to running, she'd probably be dead. "But I have a feeling that when we do get out, I won't be able to keep up with you guys." it was embarrassing, but to ensure her survival, she had to ask for help.

Minho groaned, because he hated to admit she was actually making sense. "Did you talk to Alby about it?"

"Not yet."

He rubbed his forehead, which was already starting to grease up with sweat. "Shuck, I can't believe I'm being nice about this."

A smile immediately bloomed on her features, and she started bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You'll do it?"

"Don't get all excited." Minho said, "We'll train one hour in the morning and one hour at night. Only until you can regulate your… running allergy." even Minho knew how ridiculous that sounded.

"Thank you, thank you!" and she threw herself onto the older boy's arms clutching them like they were her lifeline.

"You're totally shucking up my sleep schedule more than normal," he replied, trying to sound serious but in reality he was almost flustered. "I'm kinda honored you went to me first, She-bean. Am I the first boy you've hugged?" he teased, leaning in closer.

"Slim it." she smacked him on the arm, and she tried not to be so shocked at how tough his skin was.

"Wow, I can't take your Glader slang seriously."

"I was just in the moment, but I am thankful you're taking your time out for me."

Minho took a careful sip of his coffee, "As long as you make this every morning. And don't get too excited." he sucked away the last few drops of his mug, looked at it as if it would produce more. Throwing it to Theo, he waved her off. "Tomorrow morning, get the okay from Alby."

As soon as Minho left for the Maze, she made a beeline for the Homestead, pretending she had forgotten something. Virtually every Glader was gone, not wanting to miss out on the primetime for Frypan's breakfast. Walking further inside, she made way for the more private rooms, where Alby's was located. She wasn't allowed to go upstairs, but no one was stopping her, aside from the catcalls and obvious dirty joke. Nervous, she lightly tapped the doorway.

"I'm busy." was the curt reply.

"It's me." Theo tried, knocking again.

All of a sudden the door swung open, as if he was in front of her all along. "This better be good, Greenie."

She absorbed the simplicity of his bedroom, with a bed, a nightstand, and a chair. Off to the corner was a desk drowning in a series of messily drawn over papers, which Alby quickly cleared away into a box. Standing in the very middle of it, she tried to relax herself. She didn't know her mother, or if she had one, but she'd probably be very appalled knowing she went into a boy's room. "I asked Minho if I could run with him."

There was a flicker of steel in Alby's eyes, but he remained silent.

"Not in the Maze." she clarified, and took out her trump card. "I don't feel comfortable in the event I would have to run, when we'd escape." she was stretching the truth and it wasn't exactly how she mentioned it to Minho, but whatever sounded the most convincing. "He said that he'll help me build up my stamina, I want to be strong." she stated with so much conviction, she was shocked herself with the determination.

"You are strong, and you're needed with the Med-jacks." Alby reasoned, shaking his head.

"It's shameful." she confessed, biting her lip. "I want to prove I have as much capability as any other Glader."

To her surprise, Alby smiled proudly, as if he hoped she'd say those words. "You don't have to prove anything to anybody. But I know that ain't stopping you. Do what you want, just as long as it doesn't interfere with your Med-jack duties."

If she was closer to Alby, she would've hugged him, but instead settled on a quick grasp of his hands. "Thank you, and I'd appreciate it if you kept it on the down low, at least to the people I don't know very well. I don't want to draw more attention than usual."

"I don't bargain with Greenies." he shook his head with mock-seriousness, it was his attempt at making a joke.

"Well, I don't have much in exchange."

"As long as you have the Gladers' trust, that's all we need."

Her fingers were stuffed in her pocket, clutching the inhaler. Theo would tell them, once she established herself. _Soon_ she thought, _hopefully soon. _

In the days following, the bane and reason for her existence, was running in the dark. Before dawn, and late at night, Minho and her took it upon themselves to keep her fitness in top shape.

"Damn girl," Minho hadn't even broken a sweat, he didn't even appear tired despite him running all day and every day before that. "Do you not know how to breathe?"

Theo was reminded of the painful ride in the Box, being suffocated and packaged like cargo. She was breathless, just like then. Air seemed sparse and her lungs were sand dry. Her throat burned terribly. "Shuck it."

Minho glowered at her attempt at looking strong. "You look like you're about to faint on your shuck face if we keep going like this."

"Well if I do, you know where my sleeping bag is." she replied stubbornly, and willed her legs to push on. "C'mon, one more lap around."

The terrain of the forest was private enough, and pushed Theo to her limit without her looking like a complete mess in front of the other Gladers. Minho pretended not to notice the continuous rounds of labored breaths and her stops of exhaustion every ten minutes, but reasoned that if she kept it up like this she'd probably drop before they solved the Maze.

"The Maze isn't exactly flat, so it'll be good to learn how to jump and dive and all that." he said between laps, referring to the unlevel ground of the forest. "Next time," he awkwardly paused as Theo gasped for air, "breathing exercises."

"Sounds good." she said, "I'm going to take my time getting to Clint and Jeff. You have fun in the Maze."

"I'll have a peachy time with the Grievers." he replied sarcastically, waving her off.

* * *

"You look like a wounded healer." Clint observed as the young girl plopped in one of their cots. The sun had finally risen, the golden light reflecting on Clint's beige shirt.

"I am a wounded healer." she sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over her eyes. She haphazardly kicked off her shoes, flinging them against the wall. Her legs dangled off the cot like limp noodles, and she lifted them slightly to check that they were still attached to her body. "Ugh, I could really use some ice."

"That's a luxury, Greenie. You'd have to get past Frypan for his ice."

"Guys," she said absentmindedly, "what's a Griever?"

Pause.

"Well, that was unexpected." Jeff deadpanned.

"Sorry," she muttered hurriedly, "It's just that Minho mentioned it in passing this morning."

"Wait, you were with Minho?" Jeff guaffed, "No wonder you're so shuckin' exhausted."

"We were _running._"

"Right, right." Jeff mumbled, seemingly unconvinced.

"So, the Grievers."

"What of it? You hear them every night." She thought back to the nights of endless, mechanical screams and inhumane shrieks when the walls closed every dawn. "Now that you're a Med-jack, you'll have to deal with those shanks one way or another."

Theo blanched. "What do you mean?"

"We mean," Clint shifted uncomfortably, his fingers grasping the strap of his med-kit. "We're on call whenever someone gets stung by 'em, and make sure they don't completely lose it during the Changing."

"The Changing?" she didn't like that term one bit.

"When they get all jacked up and their memories come back, it's too painful and overwhelming to take in." Jeff shrugged, trying to brush it off as a professional. "The only reason we're telling you this is because you'd need to know in the event that something does happen, not to fill your little Greenbean head."

"Regaining your memories doesn't seem that bad." Theo murmured.

"At the expense of losing your sanity?" Jeff scoffed, "Just look at Gally, and he's all shucked up."

"Gally got stung?"

"Please, no more story time." the Med-jack said, "we have a long day."

Theo left it at that, and only because the two boys offered to sneak in some ice if she'd stop asking. She still wanted to know more about the Grievers, what did they look like? Were they birds, or spiders? At the same time, she hoped that she would never have to face one, in fear of being stung, no matter how precious regaining her memories sounded. In a matter of hours, the ice had turned to water and stopped numbing her legs. Gladers started walking in and out of the main room of Homestead, as opposed to their usual room to accommodate all the injured Gladers.

And it seemed that at some point, _everyone _in the Glade was injured.

"This is all your fault, Theo." Jeff cursed under his breath, observing the crowd of boys filing in.

She had to agree. Some of them came in for the stupidest things "My head hurts" or "I scratched myself digging" but who was she to tell them they were and weren't in pain?

"You guys can take a break, if you want." she said sheepishly, taking the med-kit from Jeff's hands. "They won't take long anyway."

"They just want to stare at our new Med-jack." Clint nudged her shoulder, and she blushed. She was probably the equivalent of the Glade's cute nurse in their eyes, it was insulting, but inevitable. "We'll be right back, get some lunch. Want anything?"

"Apples will be fine, and if you can beg Frypan for some peanut butter that would be marvelous."

"Got it."

Theo was cleaning Frankie's barely centimeter long cut when Gally walked in. She gasped internally, and focused more on cleaning the miniscule thing, pretending not to notice him.

"Alright slintheads, we all know you're here to stare at the new Greenie. Now move aside for people who are actually hurt." Gally couldn't have said it better, and she couldn't help but find an ounce of appreciation for the guy's leadership skills. Frankie reluctantly removed himself from her grip, and he was soon replaced with Gally, who outstretched his arm. An angry, red gash spidered around his forearm, supported by what appeared to be a drenched old rag. His hands were caked in mortar and dried cement powder. "Stupid shanks dropped a brick on me while we were repairing the well."

She nodded, and immediately searched for a clean sheet and started running it over the cool tap. The Homestead was empty now. "Thanks for that, by the way."

He snorted, "I wouldn't have to fake an injury just to talk to you. If I really wanted to talk to you I would've gotten up and not be a coward about it."

The gash had little specks of cement glittering his arm, and she sighed. "This looks pretty ugly. Just run it over the water for a bit and then I'll try taking out the bigger pieces when you're done."

"Sounds like a plan."

Theo bit her lip, shifting on her heels as she waited patiently for him. "So, Clint and Jeff warned me that we might have to treat, Griever stings." Gally calmly turned off the faucet. "And mentioned that you got stung."

The builder faced her with an unreadable expression. "You may be the prettiest Glader, but you sure are stupid to ask. People are better off not knowing what they look like." he stated harshly, his arm dripping with water and blood.

"Sorry." she said, definitely not sorry. She pulled out her tweezer, and started picking at the concrete that was still lodged between his skin. "Could you at least tell me what they look like?"

He winced, his light eyebrows knitting together. Gally reached for a black pen with his other hand. "They look like," he ripped off the cap with his teeth, and started drawing on the inside of her arm, her hands still working to clean his wounds. "like that." maybe it was because she was a girl that he was being nicer than normal, but either way she'd take it.

She stopped to stare at her arm. There was a black, blob looking thing with a frowny face looking back at her. She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up her throat. Either Gally was a really bad artist or that's what they really looked like. "That kind of looks, cute."

Gally scoffed, "Sure, they're cute as hell when you first meet them. They shake your hand with their extra comfy stingers." he pointed to his oversimplified drawing. "These shanks can kill you without the Serum."

"Serum?"

"These Med-jacks are doing a great job educating their new Greenie." he groaned. "The Grief Serum that the Creators sent heals us, but at the consequence of the Changing." as an afterthought he added, "It's not fun." and those three simple words were enough to convince Theo that he truly was never the same after he got stung.

She nodded curtly, and started wrapping up his arm with fresh gauze. "You're the first person who's told me anything remotely dangerous, and real."

He seemed proud of it, "Be glad it was me and not any of these flowery shucks, you're better off knowing what we're up against, warts and all."

"You may have re-gained some of my respect since the last time we met."

"Whatever, Greenie." and back to square one.

* * *

Theo had returned her inhaler to the Box, telling the others that they might send a fresh supply to her. She was really hoping for a reply. A week later, there was no reply. Instead, the Box gave them a boy who went by the name of Chuck.

The Gladers returned to their usual hazing, partly because he was male and partly because they were upset it wasn't another girl. But the fact that it wasn't another girl, only made Theo even more suspicious looking. The process seemed to fall back to it's normal pattern, and she was the glitch. Or was she? As little as she slept, she was always left listless and empty, so if she could figure out what her purpose was here, there was no inspiration. She wished she could just leave it alone and continue being a blissfully ignorant Med-jack, but the note in the inhaler confirmed that she wasn't just a flaw in their system. She needed to tell Alby about the note, answer or no answer.

When she approached the Homestead, she already had a feeling Alby wasn't there. It was the middle of the day, where all the Gladers were off to their respective jobs. He was probably evaluating the Glade diligently like the leader he was. She turned to leave, until she heard the muffled sobs of the latest Greenbean. Her stomach panged as she looked to the corner of the room, where Chuck was cocooned under the sheets, shivering like he was in the dead of winter.

Alby would have to wait.

"Hey Chuck," the mountain of blankets froze. She spoke gently as if he were a fragile piece of glass, gingerly approaching him. "I don't know if I introduced myself yet, but my name's Theo."

He was only a kid, barely. His messy, haphazardly frizzy hair was unkempt and shouted in all directions, his face a pasty white, and wide, innocent eyes. She hated watching this, and she thought she had a bad first week in the Glade. In reality, she wasn't even half as scared as Chuck was.

"Hi Theo." he said, his voice barely on the cusp of teenhood.

"Hey," she smiled gently, and reached over to pat his hair, "you know, I'm sure the other Gladers are expecting you for lunch."

"I haven't talked to them much." he mumbled, wrapping the sheets tighter around his body, as if he were trying to protect himself.

"But you're talking to me just fine."

"That's because," an apparent blush painted itself onto the boy's full cheeks, "you remind me of my mother."

Mother seemed like such a foreign concept, and Theo's heart warmed at the fact he still thought of her.

"I mean, I really know nothing about my family at all," Chuck said, ashamed. "But I don't look like a serial killer or anything, so I probably had one." he turned redder when Theo giggled, "but what did I do, what did we do so wrong to get separated from our mothers?"

He was young, too young for this.

"We either did something really bad," she slowly removed the blankets from Chuck's shoulders, "or really good. But as long as we've got each other, we'll be alright."

"Now you're really starting to remind me of my mom." a mangled sob escaped Chuck, and his hands flew to his eyes. If reminding him of his mom was the only way she could help, then so be it.

"C'mon Chuck," she soothed, "you'll feel better after a full stomach."

He really looked like he didn't want to eat, but his body spoke otherwise. Reluctantly shoving the blankets away, he got to his feet with the help of Theo. Shuffling under his breath he mumbled something about being "shucking hungry anyway" and Theo thought he'd make a wonderful addition to the Glade.

The backdoor of the Homestead swung open, and from her vision she could make out Alby's figure. All of a sudden, she was reminded of why she was there in the first place. Her hand still clutching Chuck's, she called out, "Alby, do you have a moment?" He looked up, and she unconsciously squeezed the younger boy's hand. "I need to talk to you, alone."

Alby exchanged looks with whoever was behind the doorway, as if they could read each other's minds.

The taller one stepped inside, making a line between Alby and Theo. It was Newt, and it made the girl feel strangely self-conscious. "Whatever you tell Alby, you can tell me."

* * *

(a/n) Be excited for the next chapter, guys! Lots and lots and lots of fluffy goodness. I did receive a guest review I'd like to answer, though, as honestly as possible. Theo's appearance is described within the text, as succinct as possible. Like Dashner, he's very vague with a lot of his character descriptions, and oftentimes is left to the bare minimum and the rest is to the reader's imagination. Not to say that I'm trying to write like him... I could talk a bunch about his writing but I'll hold my tongue for a more private conversation. Just be patient and the picture will be drawn, and that goes for Minho and every other Glader as well.

Also, I don't believe the OC is flat, non-exciting, and not going anywhere. Girl, it's only been three chapters, give her some time to breathe! She barely knows her own name. And oftentimes, Dashner's characters are just as static and confusing, I'll try my best to make them dynamic as I can, there really isn't much for me to go by besides my imagination. Again, it's only been three chapters. Yes, there will be romance, but note that this fic isn't in the romance category. I'm no hopeless romantic, and I'm not going to divert away from the plot so Newt and Theo can go on a date, they have bigger fish to fry.

Sorry for my semi-rant. But hopefully, I'll see all of you next chapter! Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

After a light meal with Chuck, the two leaders promptly informed her to meet her in the second floor of the Homestead. The fact that they were anticipating her with semi-threatening looks was extremely nerve wracking for her, so she skipped dinner and opted for water and a few slices of apple. After the first couple of bites, she surrendered and offered the fruit to Chuck, who thankfully didn't intrude.

"Not hungry?"

Theo forced a half-smile. "The fact that you're eating is making me full enough."

"Gross, stop being so cheesy." he made a face, and returned to digging into his potatoes. "I'll be alright, you should go on ahead if you really need to talk to them."

"You sure? They can wait." but she wasn't entirely sure if she could wait, the anticipation was eating at her as fiercely as Chuck was making his mash disappear.

"Go, but," he sighed, his fork patting against his meat, "I probably won't be able to sleep tonight."

"I'll find you after, okay?"

"Thanks." he smiled shyly, and ushered her out the shack.

Theo rubbed her hands against her grey shirt, her thumbs wearing away at the fabric as she reached the Homestead. The sky was already melting away into a dark blue, and the air misted away into a comfortable coolness. Newt was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, leaning his one elbow against the rickety banister, throwing her off with a simple half-smile. But simplicity could be handsome, or maybe it was just him. "My room." he said, and led the way.

Even their footsteps seemed amplified as they walked down the hallway.

"And stop looking so tense," he swatted away her hands which were still deadlocking her shirt, "it's only us."

"I can't help it." she half-whispered, stretching at the fabric once more.

"Well, it's making me nervous!"

Maybe he had a right to feel nervous. He opened the door to his bedroom, and Theo took a second before allowing herself in. She felt even more intrusive being in Newt's room than Alby's. The space was smaller, there wasn't any room for personal decoration but the yellow light from the glass lamp was warm and intimate.

"Theo, sit." it came from Alby, who was propped on a stool, his expression passive. She wondered how close these two were, considering how casually he offered her to sit on Newt's bed.

She carefully sat on its edge, and with the two boys' towering height, she already felt like she committed a heinous crime.

"How's your schedule with Minho?" Alby asked lightly, and from the confused flicker in Newt's eyes it was easy to tell he was only vaguely aware of her plans. However, he didn't interrupt.

"Slow," she confessed, running a hand through her ebony hair, "kind of unbearable, but I wanna go through with it."

He nodded, "Good. So, you know something."

She exhaled, knowing there was no turning back. "Yeah, I do." she felt like a little kid being caught red handed.

Alby's hands were knitted together. "For how long?" he asked tersely.

"A few weeks." she squeaked out, and Alby seemed really, really upset.

"What happened to trust, Theo." he said, eerily calm. "From the very beginning, I made it clear that keeping secrets would only make things worse." he got up, his weight shaking the bed as he made fierce, strong eye contact to Theo. "How are we supposed to trust you?"

Guilt started eating her up with every passing moment, and she felt her hands start to get clammy. "How I was supposed to trust myself, I thought I was going crazy." she reasoned, almost desperately. When Alby didn't respond, which was far worse than him speaking out, her shaky fingers reached inside her pocket, pulling out the the mangled piece of paper. "I found this in my inhaler, I thought it was a mistake at first but," she couldn't breathe, at least not without any effort, "It couldn't be."

Newt carefully extracted the sheet from her fingers, "Remember the variables," he read, "what the bloody hell does that mean?"

"I don't know." she admitted softly, shaking her head.

"Don't play dumb, Theo." Alby gritted out roughly, clasping her hands on her tiny shoulders. It didn't really hurt, but the closeness felt incredibly antipathetic. "You know something, otherwise the Box wouldn't have directly contacted _you._ Now tell us what you know!"

She hated herself, "I really don't!" she exclaimed, her hands flying to her head, as if she could salvage whatever underlying thoughts she had. "I wish I did, which was why it was so hard to tell you guys." she shook her head, nothing rung a bell. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"If you're so sorry, then you should've done us all a favor and told us when you first discovered it." the older one stressed, his shoulders heaving with each breath. He was trying so hard to stay together. "Because of you, we've wasted so much time, like idiots. Now, think, think harder!"

"Alby," Newt said temperately, in order to quell the already burning fire. "Calm down, she really doesn't know."

Theo looked away, disappointed in herself. She felt Alby's touch disappear like a burn, but she still didn't feel like she deserved to look up. She heard the faint, quick whispers of Newt and Alby's voices, not meant for her ears.

"We'll give you a minute." was what Newt said in passing before leaving the room.

"I understand why you did it, Theo." Alby confessed, his eyes fixated on the ground, his body half in and out the door, "but next time, don't be selfish and think you can solve this on your own. Next time this happens, you tell us, or you'll be in the Slammer."

Both boys had already left by the time Theo was able to gather herself, and the only action of acknowledgement was a mute nod. Really, either way it would've been a mess. She kept trying to convince herself, and there could be worse consequences than a stern talk down. They were having a hard time, they all were, and she could understand how much on edge Alby was for having the one girl in the Glade called upon like an Angel from the box. It was too constructed, she was too threatening to their peace.

She sighed, and kicked off her shoes, and without even thinking, slipped her body under the bedsheets. When was the last time she slept in a bed? It wasn't the most comfortable mattress in the world, but it felt a hell of a lot more warmer than the Homestead floors. She drifted deeper and deeper into the covers, never once considering until now the alone time she craved. Eventually, the subtle scent of fresh grass and morning sun sent her into a much needed rest.

She didn't know how long it had been since then, but when she woke up, terror zapped through her body.

"Finally, you're awake."

Newt was sitting in one of his chairs, his legs dangling from the back of it. His hand was in his chin, his eyes glazed over. Part of his tousled blond hair was sticking up, probably from running his hands through it too much. It looked like he had been sitting there forever.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she gushed, moving to step out of his bed but Newt promptly stopped her.

"It's fine," he insisted, waving her back down. "It's only been a couple hours."

"Hours!" she remarked, ripping the covers away. And to support Newt's statement, the sky was a bright navy, the only light between them was a lamp perched against the sill. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

He shrugged, "You looked so peaceful."

A furious blush crept up her cheeks, and she felt her legs start to grow warm and jelly-like at the thought, thankfully she was still sitting up. "Where's Chuck?"

"Asleep." he paused for thought, "yeah, those potatoes knocked him right out. Probably the first good night he's had in days."

"And Minho?"

"Shuckin' passed out after I told him you fell asleep."

"It's so late." her mental clocked screamed at her, and willed her to return to the faithful bed, but she forced herself to stand. "I'll let you get some sleep, I'm sorry again."

"I want you to take Alby's words to heart, do you hear me?" Newt said suddenly, his eyes staring her down. His gaze had an underlying power that soothed every nerve in her skin, and Theo couldn't help but sit back down. "Next time, tell one of us. The only thing it can do is help. Alby's my best mate, and he knows more than anybody here."

"I will," she replied with conviction, her hands balling into fists under the sheets. "Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry, what's done is done." Newt chewed the inside of his cheek, and smiled wryly. "You can keep the bed for tonight, it looks like you enjoyed it. It'll be a nice break for being cooped up with all the boys."

She shook her head, no matter how tempting the offer was. "No thanks." she got up, and tried straightening the covers. "In another life, you were probably quite the gentleman." she said modestly, and she really could imagine Newt being the real charmer, attracting all the ladies without a care in the world. She had a feeling girls probably liked the endearing boyish type.

He laughed, genuinely enthralled by the notion. "Maybe I was."

Theo liked how easygoing he was, it made conversation so much easier, "I had a dream." she confessed.

That seemed to interest him, and he lifted his head slightly, only to let it rest comfortably against the chair. He looked like a little kid awaiting his storytime. "Really? Do you remember it?"

"I don't know, I was just reading a book of some sorts. A fairy tale, probably." she thought back to the hazy dream. She was wearing a faded daisy dress, with just as faded lace socks. The words were fuzzy and blurred, but she could make out the vivid watercolor pictures. "It's probably irrelevant, but I was little when I read it."

"At least you dream about your past, no matter how incomplete. My dreams aren't all that cute." he toyed with a playful grin.

"What do you dream about?"

"Zart's snoring."

Theo laughed at the thought, and wow, it felt so good to laugh. She had to thank Newt for that, but maybe some other time. Sleep was beckoning her, and the dream was still lingering in her mind. Backing away towards the door, she slipped on her shoes. "I should go back downstairs now."

Newt complied, and got up to open the door for her, his movements just as sluggish as hers.

"Sure thing." he drawled, drooping his head so their faces were parallel to each other.

She didn't want to turn away from his gaze, which was all too inviting and tender, so she took baby steps backwards. "Good night."

It took a second for him to reply, trying to lag the moment. "Night."

When the door finally shut she released a breath she didn't know she was holding. Theo had felt breathless before, but not being able to breathe never felt that good.

* * *

The following days were painfully slow.

At one point, she was selfishly hoping that Gladers would be vying for her attention once more so she'd be preoccupied with more than just the charming, blond haired second-in-command. Days soon trended into routine, and at one point she, Jeff and Clint were dozing off in the middle of work, sleeping in patient cots. It was a good thing that Gladers weren't hurting themselves left and right, but the result was terribly boring.

Theo eventually found refuge in running.

"I swear, you're improving."

_Huff huff huff._

"Okay, what I mean by improving, is that you can at least run in a straight line without cursing my name out."

Minho was her trainer of sorts, and was either extremely encouraging or insufferably sarcastic when it came to their morning and evening runs. He was like the annoying brother she never wanted. The Keeper eventually moved on from breathing exercises and made her jog again, gradually increasing pace and time as the days went on. In the afternoons, she'd get away with napping and perfecting inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. During the early and late hours, she'd run with Minho. He hadn't given up on her yet. Minho promised that by the time they escaped, she'd run faster than when Newt was a Runner a few months before she arrived ("Trust me when I say that" he said in-between a cooldown, "that shank was faster than me at one point, I hated him for months.") While she found that hard to believe, it did make her feel better, and that these exercises weren't pointless.

Other times, Chuck would follow her around like a baby duckling, whenever he wasn't too busy cleaning. He was a Slopper, and he was quite disappointed knowing it was the best he could do. Regardless, he performed his task dutifully like any other worker. At most times made sure to shower before meeting with her, and Theo trusted him enough to stand in front of the bathhouse when she had to freshen up. It was annoying at first, but Theo learned to accommodate to it, as long as he didn't get in the way while she worked she'd deal with it.

It was better than being alone, where she felt extremely vulnerable to over-thinking.

"You look like you were made for the job."

Her shoulders contracted together in shock, far too into checking the Glade's medical inventory. Newt was leaning against the doorway, and from the looks of his lax position, he'd been standing there for awhile. His slightly yellow tank bubbled over his belly, and it was kind of cute because he was so slender. He flipped his hair, probably without even knowing it, but she still felt appalled by how impossibly _good _he made it look.

Theo lifted an eyebrow, "Is that supposed to be a sexist comment?" she thought back to previous Gladers, who relished in the fact about being doted on by a young lady.

"Not at all." he replied smoothly, and pushed his body forward."You just look like someone to rely on, someone who'd take great care in another."

"Slim it." she said hastily, hiding her face with her clipboard.

He chuckled, the low rumble in his throat impossibly charming. "It's adorable when you try to speak like a Glader."

_Please, please go away._ She repeated in her head over and over, because she wasn't sure if she could handle her palpitating heart any longer. Theo liked it all too much. "Well, then I'm sure Gally sounds just as adorable when he says it." she countered.

Newt snorted, "Who knew you had a sense of humor."

And just as they started to get comfortable, the moment was shattered instantaneously. Their gazes hung like drying laundry, and all at once pulled into a sleepless nightmare. Clint and Jeff stormed into the Homestead's infirmary, with Minho and Alby in tow. The four of them were heaving a body into one of the cots.

"Ben's been stung!" Minho said quickly.

"In broad daylight." as if Alby couldn't believe it.

"Hold him down while we prepare the serum!" Jeff ordered, filing through the drawers as fast as possible.

The strangled, painful grunts and cries of Ben deafened the group's ears as he tried to fight against him. His face was unbelievably pale and sunken, but hideously contorted together, with purple eye bags and veins popping from his neck. He convulsed and screamed, thrashing around the cot like a wild animal.

Newt and Minho held down Ben's legs, while Alby was strapping down one of his arms with a leather bind. Clint practically threw all his weight onto Ben's right side, as Theo hastily attempted to cut open his shirt. As soon as the fabric pulled away, she was greeted with unnatural, furiously scrawled purple and red blood and yellowed pus. The Griever strung spread across his torso and to his naval, practically eating his body. Green ropey scars tinged his blistered skin. Theo had never met Ben before, but that moment definitely the worst possible way to greet anyone.

"Clint! Where the hell is the syringe stopper! If we give him too much we'll kill him."

Clint hurriedly flew to Jeff's side, causing Ben's head to snap forward like a rocket, his skull crashing against Theo's. "Get away from me!" he barked, his eyes wide with fire, but it didn't quite reach her ears as pain flooded to her head.

"Watch it, shuckface!" Minho yelled, now responsible for holding Ben's entire bottom half.

Newt immediately took Clint's place and held his body down, no time for words as he grit his teeth together.

"Stand back!" Jeff warned, pounding a blue colored spring syringe into Ben's chest.

The Griever-stung body had immediately relaxed, and Ben finally succumbed to unconsciousness, his limbs dropping like deadweight. Alby and Minho took this opportunity to strap his body to the bed, trying the leather together so hard that they were risking blood circulation.

Once they were in the clear Newt rushed over and dropped to the ground, where Theo was slumped over. "Are you alright?" She moaned in response, and tried opening her eyes but all she could see was black and white dots. His eyebrows knit together, trying to shoo away the hair from her forehead. "Can you hear me?"

"Newt, Clint and Jeff will take care of her. You need to come with Minho and I." Alby said authoritatively, wiping the sweat off his brow. "Keep a watch on Ben at all times, I want a report every hour." The two fully conscious Med-jacks nodded in understanding, and went to cleaning up the mess of thrown supplies and pushed papers.

As much as Newt wanted to, he knew that Theo had to wait. He watched as Clint scooped her into another sleeping mat, talking to her to make sure she wouldn't fall out of consciousness. "I don't think we're going to survive this week." he muttered to Minho, who wordlessly agreed.

* * *

"Ben is such a hardhead for going out into the Maze like that. Get it, hardhead?" Frypan guaffed at his own joke, only to cause Theo's headache to worsen. She forced a smile, and hurriedly thanked him for the take-out meal, Frypan eventually making his way back to the Shack. Clint assured her that Ben's head only caused minor bruising to hers, and it only looked so bad because it was her temple that got hit. It still scared her, but regardless tried her best to help out, even if it was just bringing dinner to them.

"I think I'll throw up if I start eating." she remarked, handing Jeff the large picnic basket.

"Go ahead and rest, Alby will understand if you take a break." the Med-jack pressed on, hurriedly eager to eat his dinner.

Theo wasn't so sure, and stole a glance behind her friend, where Ben was resting. "But—"

"Don't be stubborn, Theo. You did a good job today, but Ben practically knocked the hell out of you. Just go."

"I can just stay—"

"No," and for a split second she could've bet money that Jeff knew more than she did. "besides, someone's been waiting for you."

"Slim it." An accented voice said to her right. Theo was already starting to feel lightheaded, and it wasn't because of Ben. "C'mon, some fresh air will do ya good."

"Hurry, you kids be nice." another playful shove and she felt her wrist being tugged away by Newt, who for some reason seemed inescapable.

It was dark, and the Glade seemed more spacious than usual. Newt led her to the Gardens, making sure to slow his pace so she wouldn't overexert herself. He patted a patch of grass and urged her to sit, and she happily did so, finally being able to rest her body. The Glade was tranquil, and devoid of people. It was strangely quiet, but she liked being able to lean back and not worry about Track-hoes running back and forth.

"But maybe they do need my help." she said to herself.

"Hush, those two will be fine handling Ben."

"I'm okay, really."

"Thea, please relax."

"Maybe I am losing it, because I distinctly remember my name being Theo."

Newt was sitting next to her, his long legs stretched out so far it made hers look like stubs. "What's wrong with Thea? It can be my nickname for you, and you can call me…" he rattled off names in his head, bobbing his head back and forth. "Darling?" he tried, a gummy grin infectiously leaning towards her.

She scoffed, and shifted slightly when she realized that their thighs were practically against each other. "Please, your attempts at flirting are so obvious."

"Then it must be working." he egged on, but when she didn't reply his smile faded. They both knew they shouldn't continue like this, especially with Ben being stung in the middle of the day, and a new Glader coming in tomorrow. Another month had passed by all too soon. "The sky would be prettier with stars." he murmured absentmindedly, his eyes fixating on the blank, dark slate above them.

"I was just thinking about that."

"And speaking of pretty, even with that bruise you still are," he coughed to himself, flustered. "you know, pretty."

He was doing it again. Making her go crazy at the most inconvenient times. Theo shook her head, making her dark hair cover her temple. "Newt, I'm probably the first girl you've seen in a very, very long time. You're just saying that because you don't have any other girls to compare to."

His hands moved her hair apart, making sure her bruise was viewable to dismiss her theory. "I know what pretty is, I don't need a million other girls to tell me otherwise."

"Then," she drew circles with her pointer finger, trying to think of the right words to say. "Then I should know what handsome is, and I don't need fifty other Gladers to tell me you are."

"Like the stars?"

"Like the stars."

"Shuck," Newt laughed airily, burying his head between his knees. "If anyone heard us right now, I don't think we'd escape the end of it."

* * *

"Shit, I slept through the day!" Theo cried, looking at Clint accusingly. Newt must've dropped her off in the Homestead last night, but by the time she woke up he was no longer there, and the sun was already in its midday haze. "I haven't done any work in forever, why didn't you wake me up!" she was still snuggled in her blankets from her sleeping mat, but quickly waddled to the Med-jacks' room to complain.

"Girl, you needed the sleep." Clint replied unabashedly, popping a piece of bread in his mouth. "Now doesn't your head feel better?"

"It does." she said, pursing her lips.

"Then I've done my job."

"How's Ben?"

"Peachy. He hasn't started the Changing yet, but I have a feeling he'll start convulsing very soon."

"And the new Glader?"

"Dunno, ask Chuck. He's been hanging around him all day." She sighed dramatically, blowing the top of her messy hair. "Quit it, if you're so keen on doing work switch places with me and watch Ben. I'm going to shower." and as if to prove his point, he threw a towel over his shoulder, and walked out.

Theo immediately took refuge in Clint's spot, eating the remnants of his meal. Throwing the blankets off to the side, she stole a glance to Ben, who was in a fitful rest. He looked normal enough from her distance, but she was warned it wouldn't be that way for long. She shivered, and tried to mentally prepare herself for the Changing. If she was going to succeed as a Med-jack, she was going to have to put on her big-girl undies and be tough about it. A slice of pita was still in her mouth when the tent flew open.

It was a boy, around her age. She had never seen him around, but at the same time he had that kind of generic face you could've sworn you saw more than once. He had incredibly long eyelashes, longer than hers, which framed his true brown eyes and his equally messy hair. Tall, but not exactly slender.

Swallowing the rest of her food she said, "You're not allowed in here."

"Why?" he countered, obviously perturbed. He was definitely the new Greenie. "And you're the first girl I've seen around here."

"Unfortunately. You're new?"

"Yeah." he replied, his face terse. He seriously wasn't satisfied with her simple responses, but she was still half-asleep and didn't feel like raising her voice just yet. "I'm Thomas."

"Theo."

Thomas squinted his eyes, as if he were searching for more. It bothered her, she felt like she was being stripped raw like some sort of science experiment. The only difference was the way he went about it, as if he were genuinely confused, searching for something that wasn't there. Sure, the new Glader was more good looking than others, but it was no excuse to stare at her so, intensely.

"I know you from somewhere." he said.

Before she could process the essence of of his statement, the alarms sounded.

* * *

(a/n) I have drastically altered the timeline, for future reference. As I write this, I've also combined movie elements to keep up with the quick pace. I spent three chapters in the span of two months and now we're to the main plot when Thomas arrives. I realized I suck at writing action scenes, I have a feeling that the category will change real soon.

But anyway, thank you for all the love this story has received. I haven't posted on aff since I was a freshmen in high school (and one fic a month ago) but this will be one of my longest to date. I don't know much about culture, I'm a regular on aff though, is it normal for me to directly reply back to reviewers? Or common?

See you guys soon!


	5. Chapter 5

"It's a girl."

Those three simple words left Theo relieved and dismayed. The alarm only went off when a new Glader arrived, but the Greenbean was already here, Thomas. The two pushed their way to the front, where Newt was hunched over her, clutching a piece of paper in his hands.

"She's the last one. Ever."

Whispers erupted, shouts and whatever the less filled the air, both alarmed and confused. Newt leaned over once more, trying to rouse her. His head snapped back like a rubber band when she awoke, bright azure eyes staring into the sky. She spoke, her voice empty and hollow.

"_Everything is going to change_." and she instantaneously fell out of consciousness.

Alby pulled himself together, and bellowed, "Med-jacks!"

Clint and Theo pushed their way through the crowd, taking the girl from Newt's arms. They placed her on the ground, and spread her limbs as gently as possible. Jeff was right beside them, checking her body for any blatant injury. "Pulse low, but still there." he stated automatically.

"Her skin's dry, but flushed with color." Theo added, pressing her palm to her forehead. The dirt was moving around them, and a thin coat of grime clung to their clothes and skin."She's warm, barely."

Clint pressed his ear to her chest, feeling for a heartbeat. "Slow, but steady. No signs of immediate fluctuation, as if she were asleep this entire time."

"Who said Clint had first shot at her?" a voice bellowed from the crowd, it was hard to distinguish who. "I'm next!"

_The nerve. _Theo felt disgusted, and almost shocked at their audacity. She tried to focus on the girl, but it was nearly impossible for her to concentrate with them eyeing her like a piece of meat. The boys didn't demoralize her like that when she first arrived, maybe it was because she was awake, or not good looking enough? Maybe the cold, unconscious type was what men really went for. She felt like throwing up, because of how irrational she was being in a state of emergency. "Not the time." she hissed to herself, supporting the girl's middle as Clint and Jeff held her body on opposite sides. "Let's get back to the Homestead."

They placed the girl in a private room upstairs where Alby and Newt slept, thankfully away from the slintheads and shuckfaces. Theo swept the tables clean, and started filling them with all sorts of equipment, basins, tongue depressors, and fresh linens. In the event that she doesn't wake up, they'd prepare soup and other easy liquids they could feed her. Jeff placed a blanket across her lower half, and checked her heartbeat with his stethoscope. "Shuck, I can barely hear anything from all the noise downstairs."

Theo buried her hands in her face, "I hate boys."

Jeff smiled uneasily in return, "When the latest She-bean wakes up, I'm sure you two can share all your boy-hating stories."

"If she wakes up." Clint cut in realistically, pulling the blanket over her stomach. "Watch her, Theo. I'm sure she'd rather wake up to a girl's face than any of us." he nodded towards the door, "we left Ben alone, let's go."

Pulling up a chair, she leaned back, wiping the sweat from her brow. She pulled out a rubber band from her wrist, haphazardly tying the matted mess of hair behind her ears. There was nothing left to do for her, besides playing babysitter.

_So this,_ she mused curiously, _is what girls can look like. _

It was like watching Snow White through her glass casket, still and eternally beautiful. Her hair was impossibly voluminous, blacker and silkier than hers. The comatose girl was gorgeously slender and much taller than her, as if frame was delicately built like a porcelain doll. She didn't sweat, despite the humidity, leaving her skin matte and unblemished. The female Med-jack had to pinch herself at how morbidly excessive she was thinking, but it felt all too familiar, the way a girl admired another out of envy. This girl definitely had power over her, and she wasn't even conscious.

The door opened behind her, and a certain sandy blond popped his head in.

"She okay?" Newt carefully shut the door behind him, resting his hand over the bed frame.

"Yeah, for now. Her vitals aren't weak, but not particularly strong either."

They watched the sleeping Snow White.

"Why," Newt said strangely, "are you looking at her like that?"

She blinked, "What are you talking about? You're staring at her too."

"Yeah," he shrugged, "but not like _that._"

"She's just," she fidgeted in her chair, "really pretty to look at." she wanted Newt to take back all the sanguine, sweet words he had said last night. She wanted him to say what she said last night was true, about out of all the millions of stars he could pick, there was always one brighter to choose from.

Somehow, Newt still found a way to smile in such a grave situation. The corners of his lips twitched upward, thoroughly amused by how genuine the Med-jack sounded. He looked back and forth between the two girls, before finally settling his eyes on Theo.

"Nope," he breathed, lightly shaking his head. "you're still prettier."

She gave him an are-you-kidding look, and her lips jutted in a semi-pout. He chuckled.

"Besides, I like my girls awake." he winked, and left it at that.

* * *

The next day was spent with endless screams, exhaustion, and the enigmatic process known as the Changing. Conveniently, too conveniently, Ben woke up in a wave of spasms and started screeching, his wrists and ankles red and raw from rubbing against the leather straps. The female Med-jack tried forcing Thomas out of the room so she could do her job, but he easily overpowered her, arguing about what they were hiding from him and what was happening to the poor guy. He seemed to pop up and involve himself everywhere, Theo noted bitterly. It wasn't until Alby and Chuck showed up that he finally got kicked out, the leader quickly pinning Ben back to bed and attempting to relax him. Ben's eyes were wide in fear, as if a ghost had entered his mind.

"Ben, you've been stung, you're not thinking straight!" Alby clenched his teeth, the taller boy trying to struggle out of his weight.

"No, you don't understand!" Ben cried, his mouth gurgling with foam. "That kid, he's bad! Bad, bad."

"What are you talking about." Theo said in a monotone, one hand resting on Ben's pulse and the other holding a sedative, just in case. She ignored the way Ben's nails managed to dig into her wrist, "You just met him, he's the new Glader, Thomas."

"Thomas is bad," Ben said again, "Bad, bad, bad."

"It's your sickness talking, Ben." she breathed out, exchanging looks with Alby.

Ben started shaking like an autumn leaf, trying to wriggle his way out, but Alby pushed harder."No, I'm not lying!" a strangled cough soon followed, a mixture of saliva and his mucus spreading over his mouth. "Please, please, please."

Clint and Jeff soon returned, Newt in tow. The two Med-jacks came with extra rope, and didn't hesitate to wrap another layer around Ben's body.

"Tommy's being bloody difficult." Newt sighed, "He won't stop until he knows what's going on."

Alby's hard features were permanently etched onto his face, finally getting off of Ben."The Greenbean is way too curious for his own good."

"He tried going into the Maze," and when the pure look of distress and anger bloomed across Alby's face, Newt quickly added, "okay, not really. He was just extremely close, but Gally stopped him before he could try anything."

"I'll go talk to him. Keep a close eye on Ben until he falls asleep."

"Yessir." he mock saluted, and walked over to Theo's side, arms crossed. Both of them failed to make eye contact with each other, the memories of last night and the day before haunting them into a lovey-dovey stupor. The suave, charming Newt from yesterday was being locked away for the sake of the situation. She was busy dunking a cloth with cold water, falling into routine of wringing the cloth and cleaning Ben's face in the hopes of cooling him down. He was still shaking, but visibly subdued. The only sounds were the pit-pat of the dripping water and Ben's heavy breaths, labored with exhaustion.

"What did Thomas tell you?" Clint asked, jotting notes on his clipboard.

"Nothing," she replied distantly, occupying herself with the towel, pressing and twisting it until her fingers were numb. "he kind of just walked in, tried to get some information, and then we kicked him out."

"Well, it was creepy when Ben started callin' him bad." Jeff kept it real, resting his body against the wall.

"Please, Thomas looks about as harmless as a litter of kittens." Theo scoffed.

"A stupid one, because he thinks he really has nine lives if he wants to go out in the Maze."

"I'll go get some broth for Ben in case he gets hungry." Theo announced, hanging the cloth over the bedpost. "Make sure he stays hydrated, he's been sweating all day." she stopped in front of Newt, who remained placid as he watched Ben, as if he were trying to read him. Nothing. Making sure the Med-jacks weren't watching, she placed a hand on his shoulder, before leaving the room.

"Theo," Chuck met her halfway from the Homestead, waving his arms back and forth. He was shifting on his heels, back and forth like he was nervous and ready to klunk his pants, but he seemed almost ecstatic. "Where are you going? Can we come with?"

She raised an eyebrow, where Thomas was awaiting patiently behind Chuck. "I don't know," she replied dryly.

"But first, I need to go to the bathroom." as if to prove his point, Chuck clutched his pants as if he were to explode at any moment, running away. Two pairs of eyes followed his terrible acting, and Thomas winced at his new friend for making it so obvious.

"Sorry about that," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "I asked Chuck if he'd lead me to you, I had a feeling that you wouldn't be willing to see me if I asked on my own."

"You were right." she replied, and she sighed when he continued to follow her even after she walked away. "I'm not going to avoid you." she said levelly, running a hand behind her ear and taking caution with her bruise.

Without even knowing it, Thomas was already in front of her, their shoulders at a diagonal parallel. She frowned at the enormous height difference, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Despite them being in the open Glade, she felt absolutely cornered.

"You know me." he whispered, as if he were talking to a long lost friend with retrograde amnesia.

"No, I don't." and she meant it.

"You must know something." he tried again, searching her for any ounce of self-doubt. "It can't possibly be a coincidence that you're the only girl here, conscious, I mean. Or at least, you must know something about the Maze." and he reached for her hand, and marveled in the way that it fit so snugly against his bigger one. "Don't you feel that?" he murmured under his breath.

"Feel what?"

"The fact that we've experienced something like this."

Theo was tolerant enough of the fact that he was blatantly touching her when they've barely known each other, but what irked her the most was that he was actually trying. He saw something in her, and he was fighting to remember what it was. It wasn't to say that other Gladers didn't try as hard to remember their past, but he was completely convinced they had something in the past, something important. "Look," she slowly extracted her hand from his, deciding whether or not this was a good idea. "I'm not lying when I said I don't remember you, but that doesn't mean we had… something beforehand." She needed to stop keeping secrets, she thought, and finally pressed a piece of paper to his palm. "The Box sent me this over a month ago."

Thomas didn't hesitate in opening the letter, scanning it like a finite lazerbeam.

"Does it look familiar?" Theo asked, and she was starting to invest some of herself into Thomas' eager mind.

"Yeah, too familiar." Thomas admitted, his one hand flying to his forehead as if he had a searing headache. "I recognize this handwriting." The phrase: _Remember the variables _was open in the middle of them, as they both tried to dissect the phrase letter by letter. The handwriting was simple, blocky and neat, but from the way the pencil swished and faded the person was probably in a rush to sneak it in.

She quickly folded it up and stuffed it back in her pocket. "Well, if you do ever find out what it means, you come tell me."

Thomas nodded slowly, probably deterred that he wasn't able to remember it so readily. "Thanks, Theo." he said, a tiny grateful smile playing on his lips. "You're probably the first person here who trusts my judgement."

He wasn't so bad, Theo concluded. "Yeah, and Chuck is probably waiting for you. Don't let him eat alone."

"Will do."

* * *

_Banishment._

Barely twenty-four hours had passed and it happens. The Glade may not have said it out loud, but they were practically in a state of mourning.

Theo had returned from the Builder's area to reclean Gally's wound when she saw Clint and Jeff sprawled across the floor, both sporting bloody noses. Ben's bed was empty. By the time she had informed Alby, Ben had already pounced on Thomas in the middle of the Deadheads with a weapon at hand and the Changing eating up his sanity. Alby acted responsibly, with an arrow to the head. When she heard the story from Chuck and they brought in Ben's semi-living body, she was practically sweating through her shirt. She was ready to clean his wounds, but someone stopped her, gripping her arm.

"We should take care of Thomas too, he got a few nasty cuts." Jeff gestured to the partially shell-shocked teen on the other side of the room. They were practically running, because Alby was practically fuming at how reckless the Glader behaved. "We're going to take care of Ben in the Slammer."

She agreed curtly, weaving past the multitude of people blocking her way. The tent was filled, with many witnesses from the Glade, Newt was one of them. But patients came first, and she finally made it to Thomas on the other end, glaring. "Should I be surprised?"

The brunette furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you saying it's my fault?" Without warning, Theo pressed an antiseptic pad to his open cheek, which caused him to hiss in pain.

"I'm not assuming anything."

"I need to talk to you." he said in a low voice, "alone."

She tensed, and covered her confusion by cleaning away Thomas' cuts. "Not now." she whispered, "too much has gone by to have a chit-chat."

He nodded in understanding. "Soon, though."

"Fine."

But nothing was fine. The rest of the day was a blur, and the only thing that she could distinctly recollect was Ben's screams. Nothing but screaming. She was thankful for her short height when Alby forced every Glader to the entrance of the Maze a half hour before sundown. She didn't want to picture this, she was still so terrified of Glader customs and keeping order, so she made sure she was in the back. It was selfish, but needed. Thomas was beside her, just as mortified as she. They exchanged gazes, both with silent tears running down their faces. They closed their eyes in unison, the echo of the Maze closing shut reverberated through their feet. Ben belonged to the Maze now.

"I'm going to do it." Thomas said numbly, the guilt and confusion evident in his face. "I'm going to be a Runner."

Theo believed him.

_Remember the variables. _If they couldn't figure out the conclusion to this, they were all very well dead, and would end up like Ben. She shivered, but kept her eyes trained on the note, hoping it would magically rearrange the letters and create a path out of the Glade. Every Glader was awake, even if it was way past lights out. Some were still even working their respective jobs, despite being tired to the bone. But she understood why, it distracted them from the bigger picture. She sighed, pressing more of her back against the stone wall of the Maze, far enough from its entrance. Dismal, she wondered if Ben was leaning opposite the same wall, slumped over and ice cold. Lightly banging her head against the wall, she willed for her ears to stop ringing.

"Thea."

She immediately stood up, despite being a head smaller than the young man. He was wearing a dirtied white hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, which was now tan, and khaki capris. His amber eyes were far away, as if he were looking right past her.

"I was just thinking." she said.

"Everyone is. But it's no excuse to mope around and lose sleep over it. We can't let the Glade fall apart because of another fallout." He stated firmly, sounding more of a leader to Theo than ever before.

"And how are you holding up?" she asked delicately, her body itching to move closer to his.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled mane of gold hair. "About as great as any other buggin' shank is taking it. Alby and Minho are going to find him in the morning if the Grievers didn't get all of him ."

Theo looked down, trying to burn the thought of Minho and Alby in the Maze, looking for Ben's remains. "Newt?"

"Yeah?"

She didn't know what compelled her selfishness when she asked, "Minho told me you retired from being a Runner shortly before I arrived. What happened out there?"

Newt looked up sharply, his face abruptly contorting into pain. "He told you that?" he asked lividly.

She stepped back, but all she felt was wall. It was touchy subject, she knew, but she felt so lost in all of this, even after the two months of being in the Glade. After days of observing Thomas' habits, the more she talked, the more she'd learn. Standing her ground, she replied, "He told me that you were the fastest Runner."

"Don't ever ask me that." the easygoing, amiable Newt was gone and replaced with a steam pot about to blow. It was as if his personality had split into two, a side of Newt not many people have seen. His hands were balled into fists, as if he were ready to defend himself at any given moment. "Whatever happened in there is none of your bloody business."

Hurt flashed across her eyes, but she went on. "Why can't you tell me?"

His face was flushed red with fury, his eyes flamed with pain. "Why can't you tell me that you've been sneaking off with Thomas?"

"What?" and she realized the connotation of the situation, and reached for him, "It isn't what you're thinking—"

He slapped her hand away, his skin felt like fire. "Don't touch me." he hissed, and left her at the wall, favoring his limp.

* * *

(a/n) A special birthday update! I'm in a good mood today, so another update for my lovely readers. And thank you for the reviews, it's keeping me sane and they're really making me happy. (Mori, I'll keep your proofreading in mind, thank you!)

We're beyond the halfway point now, at least for the first book. I really don't know if I'm planning a sequel or a continuation. I know what I want to do, but something's stopping me. But I know if I leave it at the first book, it seems too hopeful and almost cop-out-ish. Again, I'm not good with turmoil and violence, and that's pretty much a lot of the second and third books. It might just be another ten chapters. (I'm terrible when it comes to it, really, which is why I always condense things like Ben's banishment because I'm stuck. Then again, Theo isn't necessarily _main_ and shouldn't be around all the time, she has work.) I would love continue on this fic, I wouldn't make a new one. Updates would be irregular though, I'm not too big on sequels. I'm a little deterred, because I don't want to lose my creative juices in the middle of it and abandon this story, and then I'd rather keep it complete from the first book.

Anyway, my rambling. Thanks again for the feedback, from everyone! Greatly appreciated when you guys take the time to tell me how you feel.


	6. Chapter 6

"They should've been back hours ago."

Newt's thumbs dug into his square jaw, watching the Maze intently. They had a few more hours of leeway, sure, but the fact that the shouldn't be needing the extra time bothered him more. Minho was the Keeper of the Runners, he knew the Maze like the back of his hand, and Alby experienced the Glade longer than most. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. These past few days were pure torture. It was as if all the change they had hope for in all three years were crashing down, and it was too much for them to handle. They were drowning, deep.

Thomas squirmed in his seat, and finally waved an arm towards the West Door. "Can't we go after them?"

And there it was. The frail, thin expression of shock and dread that showed Newt was terrified of the Maze. Whatever happened to him in that Maze, ankle injury and all, surely scarred him for life. "Search parties are forbidden." he finally said, his face slowly returning from white to its gradual tan. "We can't afford to lose another Glader."

He was trying to be strong like Alby, but in a way, Alby was Newt's strength in more ways than none. It pained Thomas to watch him like this, it had only been a week, and he was already starting to feel compassion for the second-in-command.

They skipped dinner together.

"When Alby and Minho get back," Thomas tried to sound hopeful, for the sake of Newt's stability. "We're going to go get Theo and think up a plan."

Newt scoffed, and chuckled dryly. "She probably doesn't want to be within ten feet of me."

"Why say that?"

"I bugged out on her." his mind reeled back like a stop-motion, remembering the way she looked at her last night, scared and vulnerable. It made his heart ache. "She asked about my ankle, and what happened to me in the Maze, and I couldn't hold myself and lashed out. I partially blamed you, sorry mate." and he truly sounded apologetic.

"It's fine." Thomas replied casually, looking out in the distance. "There's nothing going on between us, at least nothing romantically."

"I know."

It was starting to get dark, the afternoon coming to a close. Chuck appeared behind them, his upper lip trembling. Gladers started to weave behind them, waiting expectantly for Alby and Minho.

"Why can't we break the rules this one time?" Thomas insisted an hour later, "It's stupid sitting here when there could be Grievers crawling to get them."

"Bloody he—" Newt pulled at his hair, devastatingly frustrated, "we just can't, okay? Don't say it again," his hope was dwindling, speeding faster into a downward spiral. "Please, especially with the buggin' Doors about to close."

"Why?" again, the dreaded _why._ "The Grievers will kill them—"

"Shut your hole, Greenie!" Newt barked, and he meant it. He meant Greenie, because Thomas knew nothing, absolutely nothing. Thomas was smart, but not smart enough for Newt. "Not a bloody week you've been here! You think I wouldn't risk my life in a second to save those lugs!"

Thomas watched Newt crumble, his face softening. And he got it, he knew Newt would go out and face his fear of the Maze for Alby and Minho. "I'm sorry."

"We have to think logically, we'd be throwin' more lives to the grave. Alby would've wanted us here." he hated to admit it, loathed it. "We all swore an oath. Never go out. No matter what. Never."

"Newt won't say it," Chuck piped up, "so I will. If they're not back, it means they're dead. Minho's too smart to get lost. Impossible. They're dead."

The former Runner was silent, as if he were the one dying. He felt all eyes on him, Gladers watching one of their mighty leaders, fallen once again. He remembered his ankle, and hated himself all over again. Wetness rimmed his eyes, glassy and weak. Succinct, he stated loud enough for everyone to hear, "Doors close in two minutes." it was with such finality, his shoulders given up in defeat. He turned his back to the Maze.

The painful crunching of the doors made the feeling all the more numb and lasting.

"Newt!" was it over already? He couldn't look, he couldn't. "They're coming!"

His whole body surged. Thomas had to be lying. But he let himself go and turned, and it was Minho and Alby! He felt a current of electricity shock him, and limped as fast as he could to the edge, feeling his chest instantaneously get all the lighter. They could make it. The Glade yelled, unified, with encouraging shouts to keep pushing forward. Minho was struggling, tugging Alby's body as hard as he could that the veins popped out of his arms, but he swayed from side to side, hindered.

"Alby's been stung!" someone announced.

_No. _They had over a hundred feet to go. His eyes darted to Thomas, whose feet were starting to rev, his hands shaking. Practically itching to move. "Don't do it Tommy!" he screamed, willing his legs to move faster. "Don't you bloody do it!"

All that talking before was useless, because Thomas bolted, his body disappearing into hell. The doors finally slammed together, mocking the Glade. It truly was over. A grim, eerie silence hung in the air, all their hope uselessly crushed by a two-ton brick.

"I knew it," It was Gally, his deep, booming voice finally broke the curse, his face hard. "Everything started changing when he came along! It's all Thomas' fault. And look now, we're out our best runner and our leader." his voice was like a brainwash, and the Gladers were too stricken to move.

"How could it be Thomas' fault?" a girl's voice argued just as strongly, Theo's. "Who could've anticipated this!"

"Slim it, girlie." Gally shot back, "First Ben, the half-dead girl, and now this. Tell me this isn't a coincidence." he looked around waiting for a reply. Silence.

"He's right." a builder uttered.

"What if it is his fault? What if he triggered everything?" another added.

"And you," Gally gestured grandly to Theo, "if you're on Thomas' side, you were better off following him in that shuckin' Maze."

"_Shut up!" _

All eyes were on Newt, who was completely and utterly sick of everything.

"You all have a choice," he seethed out, his eyes narrowing on the crowd. "either you all pick you asses up and do what you've been assigned to do in this shuck-hole, or argue uselessly like the slintheads you are. But let it be known, everything you do, you answer to me. Clear?" the newly-birthed leader of the Gladers declared, chin up. "I want my Runners up and early tomorrow at the West Gate, ready for the inevitable."

Dead. He thought to himself. They were all shucked.

* * *

"Newt, please open up." it was Theo. Of all people, why her? After the theatrics he gave her last night, she should be avoiding him like the plague. Her voice, which sounded too good and heavenly for him to answer to, kept repeating his name over and over. Each syllable was more pained than the next.

He tried to drown her out, his eyes focusing on the dancing flame of the single candle in the room.

"Newt," she tried again, her voice eerily placid. "if you don't open the door, I'm breaking it open."

Newt lifted his calloused fingers, waving it over the candle. Each time he waved it, he let his hand linger on the yellow spark a second longer. Pain waved in and out of his palm, the heat searing his skin and simmering his blood. He thought back to all the failed attempts, reminding him of how truly weak he was. Another second longer, and the lifeline of his palm glowed pink, it wasn't enough. He needed a bigger flame.

Or a taller wall, and a stronger vine.

Suddenly, a dull "bang" was heard from the hallway, and his door flung open.

It was Theo, her face flushed red and her breathing heavy. She held a bronze doorknob in her hand, his doorknob.

"You, you broke my door." he stared dumbly.

"I said I would." and she was about to accompany the statement with an eye roll before she noted how unbelievably close Newt was to the candle. "What are you _doing_?" she whispered in disbelief, her hands diving for the candle and setting it on the table. With her nails, she forced his palms open, revealing the puffy peach skin blistering his hands.

He snatched his hands away, and pointed to the exit. "Get out." he said rigidly.

The girl did move away, but only to close the door shut, locking them away from the outside. "We're going to talk." she said airily.

"Leave me alone."

"This isn't you." she said quietly.

His head snapped up, appalled. "Who are you to tell me what isn't me? Two of my closest friends just bloody died!" and Thomas, oh Thomas. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards him, and borderline jealousy. Unlike the cowardly Newt, Thomas defied the odds and went after his best mates. He could've done it too, he would've broken the rule for them. Then why didn't he?

And suddenly her face bared its burn, giving him the most disappointed look he had ever seen. It made his stomach ten times heavier although he hasn't eaten all day, and his heart all the more unbearable to hold.

"This isn't the Newt I've learned to know." she said again, and she came closer to sit with him on the bed. "I was afraid of you and all the Gladers when I first arrived. But Alby and Minho drilled it into my brain that you were the most trustworthy person in the Glade, and you'd do anything for anyone. They were right." she sighed, her face starting to heat up with all the talking. "But today, out there, you had no right to call yourself our new leader."

It was like a slap in the face.

"You're not a person who quits, Newt!" and she reached over to clutch his thigh, the left one with his limp. It wasn't for his sake, she really needed something to hold onto. "What right do you have to tell us we need to survive when you've given up altogether?" her eyes darted over to the candle in the room. "You've been through so much, so many deaths and hardships, what's making you stop now? Alby would be disappointed seeing you like this."

Like a soft rain, she broke down and her muffled sobs filled the quiet room, her shoulders shaking. Newt didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of this. He didn't ask to be stripped away from his family and his memories. He didn't ask for his friends to be eaten by Grievers. He didn't ask for this beautiful girl to tell him all the things he already knew, to still have faith in him and offer to pick up the pieces that were long broken.

"And I'm sorry." she kept patting her face, as if it would stop the barrage of tears. "I shouldn't have asked you about your ankle last night. It was none of my business."

"No," his voice was crackly from misuse. "I'm sorry for being such a shuckface these past few days."

"I'm sorry for Thomas, and Alby, and Minho." she said Minho's name with so much sadness, it was too heavy for his eardrums to bear. She was particularly close with the Runner, everyone knew it, it may have hit her just as hard as it hit him. She stopped patting her face when she realized that she wasn't going to stop crying anytime soon and shifted on the bed, wrapping her arms around Newt.

He tensed, feeling her warm breath against his neck, his shoulder moistening with tears. "Thea,"

"I have faith in Thomas," she blurted out, and moved closer so her petite frame was resting on his lap.

"I do, too." he admitted, his thumbs tentatively rubbing slow, gentle circles across her arms.

"He's still alive, surviving. I can feel it." she said, another sob.

"Hey," he positioned his head so their foreheads touched, his hands reaching out to cup her cheeks. "I can't stand it when you cry, darling." he smiled shakily.

She hiccuped, "I love it when you smile."

He tried smiling again, for her. "We'll get out of here, for them. And until then I'll train you, you'll run faster than any other shuck Glader."

This, was the Newt she missed, facing his fears head on. "That's good."

"Good that."

And she got off of him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment when her warmth was absent. Instead, she parted the covers, slipping her small frame between them. Her brown eyes looked expectantly to his, waiting for him to join her. He didn't need to be asked twice, and relaxed himself under the sheets as well. It was almost automatic when Theo moved forward, resting her head on his pillow so their faces were inches apart.

"The girl," she whispered, "she's been talking in her sleep. Asking for Thomas."

"That's no coincidence." he replied just as soft.

"They put him here for a reason." her hand reached out to touch her companion's blond hair, running her fingers through the tousled locks. It soothed the both of them. "He knows me, too. He's almost sure of it, he recognizes the handwriting from the memo."

"Blasted Tommy," he sighed, "not even a couple days and he's already got all the girls."

Theo lightly tugged at his hair. "He doesn't have me."

"Good that."

"I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not." and Theo offered her hand, a strong smile on her lips.

Newt gladly took it, and squeezed her palm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

They stood in front of the West Gate, along with Chuck and all the other Gladers. Five more minutes. The longer they waited, the more Newt's grip wavered. She'd hold onto his tightly, bringing him back to reality. And finally, the sickening rumble and moan of the gates replied to the Gladers, opening slowly and reluctantly. Everyone squinted their eyes, moved their heads left and right to get a better view.

And Chuck screamed, "There! They made it!"

Minho and Thomas were falling over each other, supporting each other as their legs gave in and up. Despite the urgency of the situation, they slowed their pace, everything was just too painful to bear. They made it, they really made it.

Newt let go of Theo's hand, meeting the two halfway. "What happened?" he asked hotly, as if it were all just one big dream and they'd eventually wake up to a nightmare. "How in the bloody hell did you manage that?"

"We'll tell you later," Thomas breathed, "no time. We have to get Alby."

"He's alive?" and not wasting a second, Newt disappeared with Minho and Thomas into the Maze. Her muscles tensed, watching his body disappeared with all the grey. Her hand was still clammy where he held his.

Not even five minutes later, an exhausted Minho was half-dragging Thomas out the door. They stopped in front of Theo. Minho's voice came out in exhausted spurts, consisting of water, bandages, and rest. Newt did not return. "Your boyfriend's fine, Theo. He's going to get Alby down." he still managed to roll his eyes, "Just help us get back to the Homestead."

"Hate you, you guys scared me half to death." and she punched Minho's arm, dragging it with her. "But I had faith that you guys would come back."

"Of course we would." Minho said arrogantly.

Thomas finally butted in, "Is that why you ran—"

"Slim it, shuckface."

Thankfully, Minho was the first to crash, which made tending to his wounds and bearing his big mouth all the more bearable. Thomas fell in and out of consciousness, trying to fight sleep because he claimed that he knew too much to just sleep. He asked about the girl, and the Med-jacks replied with clipped, vague responses so he wouldn't try to jump out of bed and find her. Clint returned from Alby's room, rubbing his hands with a yellow cloth. "The Grief Serum worked," he said, "he's alive, barely. But breathing."

"Alright, I say we divy up the patients." Jeff suggested, "I'll watch the girl, Theo takes Minho and Thomas, and you take Alby. We rotate every hour."

Clint shook his head, "Can't. Newt just called a Gathering." he reluctantly handed Jeff his notes, "Keepers and Thomas."

"Why Thomas?"

"The whole shuckin' Gathering's about Thomas."

Theo looked aside to Thomas, who was finally asleep in his cot. One hand was over his chest, the other one limp at his side, his knuckles beaten and cut. His stomach rose up and down like a metronome, peaceful and patterned. He really needed the sleep.

* * *

"Thomas, Thomas, Thomas."

She wanted to roll her eyes at the mantra. _Yes, we all know you want Thomas._ The girl's eyelids would roll back and forth, as if she were endlessly dreaming. Theo wondered how long it would take for her to wake up, drinking soup and water all day wasn't enough to sustain her healthily. The way her fingers twitched every few minutes and her knees tensed and relaxed told her that she was trying, but something was stopping her from pulling through. The girl moved her arm, and caught the faint words tattooed on her bicep: _WICKED is good. _

"Aris, I—"

The comatose girl stopped herself, her eyebrows crinkling together. Whoever she was talking about, it was stressing her out. Theo reached over and pressed her thumb between her eyebrows, trying to erase the fine lines. Her expression went lax, and the wrinkles ironed out. She kept mumbling, though.

"Theo_._"

Said girl dropped her clipboard, resulting in an angry clack against the hardwood floor. Theo? She knew her? Her head was starting to hurt at the thought, as she concentrated on the Sleeping Beauty. Like Thomas, she couldn't recognize her, but for some psycho-analytic reason she knew her name. And if she knew Thomas, somehow they were all connected, scarily enough. _Who are you?_ she wanted to ask, pushing the girl's dark locks out of her face.

"I swear, Theo's got a girl crush on her." Jeff said from the doorway to the other two guests. The Gathering must have ended since they've returned.

Newt and Thomas walked in, more like Newt hobbling in and dragging Thomas by the arm. The subtle eyeroll went noticed, even though he wasn't really up for kidding around. "And all along I thought Thomas was my competition." he firmly took the said boy by the shoulder, forcing him down in the chair closest to the girl. "Go on, then. I want you to stare at this girl until your eyes bleed. Until you remember. Now concentrate."

Theo soundlessly reached down to grab the clipboard, trying not to disrupt whatever those two were doing. Both looked like emotional wrecks, Newt as if he were the walking dead and Thomas trying to fight against a mind block. "I do know her." Thomas finally said, breaking the silence. Thomas and Newt both exchanged minute conversation, both eyeing each other back and forth about the girl.

"Theo," Thomas said, almost trance-like, "did you just talk?"

"No." she replied, eyes darting between Thomas and the girl.

"I… think her name's Teresa."

"There ya go, you're remembering her name." Newt's words of encouragement did nothing to calm Thomas down, in fact he looked even more confused.

"No, it's a voice, her voice." and he got up, not wanting to listen to whatever was going on in his head.

"Bloody hell Tommy, sit down."

More silence, but Thomas seemed more and more terrified as it dragged on. "Theo, the note." he said.

"What about it?" she gripped the clipboard tighter.

"I think, I think I know who wrote it." he looked to Theo, a pained expression on his face. He was covering his ears, trying to stop whatever he was hearing. But the way his expression was unwavering showed that it wasn't working. He backed up against the door, unable to take it as the two other people in the room watched him helplessly. "I, I need to go." and he ran off like his life depended on it, as if a million Grievers were chasing him all at once.

"Tommy!" Newt yelled, not caring if the girl was sleeping as he stuck his head out the doorway. "Dammit, Thomas!" and he pounded his fist against the wall.

"He'll come back. He'll need to come back to get more answers." Theo assured softly, her eyes darting between the girl—Teresa, and Newt. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he visibly relaxed.

Resolute, he said, "Thea, listen to me." he took the hand off his shoulder and covered it with his own. "Things are going to get hectic these next couple of days. I'll do my best to protect you, but if anything happens and I'm not there, promise me." and he pulled his face closer to hers, and she could see nothing but the intensity of his deep brown eyes. However, her heart wasn't swayed and her face did not flush with jovial emotion. "that you will not go into the Maze without me. And if all hell breaks loose, I want you to run, abandon whatever you're doing. Lock yourself in the Slammer, it's the safest place in the bloody Glade."

She shook her head, disconcerted. "I want to stay with you and the others—"

"_Promise me_, Theo." he said firmly.

Feeling useless and betrayed, she pulled her hand away. "I can't promise you that."

Pain flashed across Newt's eyes, and he backed away altogether, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I can't argue with you right now. I'm going to go check on Alby."

She wasn't going to just stand in the infirmary and wait either. "I'm going to find Thomas."

"Whatever," she felt a stab in her chest, even though both their attitudes justified their brashness, "do what you want."

And she did, regretless. She was nowhere near as fast as Thomas, but she was fast enough to spot his lithe figure by the forest, his ears still covered by his hands. Breaking into a sprint, she ignored all the questionable stares as she went after Thomas. She nearly collapsed over the boy when she finally reached him, her knees digging into the dead leaves.

"Theo." he paused, not quite there. "I wrote it. I wrote that note to you."

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Are you sure?"

"That's why it was so familiar, it's my handwriting." he held up his palms, given up on ignoring whatever he was trying to tune out. "Teresa was talking to me, I swear. I must have sent it to you or something, I tried to help you guys. But now we're here." he looked like a crazy person at this point, but Theo knew better, Thomas wasn't one to lie. "She said she triggered it, and it's our fault." he rubbed at his hands, as if they were ice cold and he were trying to calm himself down.

"Triggered what?" Theo whispered.

"The Ending." Thomas collapsed beside her, running a shaky hand through his brown cropped hair. "I saw Alby today, too." and from the way his voice dropped, the confrontation wasn't a happy one. "And he said he saw me doing this, all of this, to him." he opened his arms, absorbing the Glade like it was a venomous poison. "He, he mentioned maps."

It was as if the boy was talking to himself, or maybe to Teresa "What maps?"

"The maps to the Maze, he told Newt to protect them. And the Maze changes every night, so there's different maps for different days."

"What if," Theo shook her head.

"This isn't a time to hesitate, Theo." Thomas urged, "if you have a theory, spit it out."

"The variables, Thomas." she thought back to the note, "what if the Maze is a bunch of variables, or trials. Or, the Glade, what if everything is one big trial?"

"I, I think you're right. You've never been in the Maze, but there are words on the wall. World in catastrophe, killzone experiment department_._" it was hard for the both of them to swallow. "We need to get those maps." and the cogs started turning in his head, and he squinted his eyes shut. "I'm going to go with Minho tomorrow, in the Maze." the newly elected runner stated, "I'll try to get as much info as I can. By tomorrow, I think we can formulate something and get out of this hellhole."

"I hope so."

The rest of their time in the woods was spent in silence. Not once did they look at each other, their eyes fixated on the sunless sky.


	7. Chapter 7

"Stars are beautiful." a little girl read, her pudgy hands gliding across the colorfully illustrated page. The image was littered with specks of red, blue, and white stars. They were certainly not the real thing, but she was enthralled all the same. "But they may not take part in anything, they must look on forever. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning."

Her thumb was already itching under the next page when the book was promptly removed from her lap. She frowned, ready to protest until a stern looking man gave a warning look. "Playtime is over." and he placed her bookmark inside her novel, placing it on the desk.

"Can I at least finish the next page?" she whined, biting her cheeks in annoyance.

"No." the man replied, unfazed. He leaned forward to meet her eye level, close enough for her to detect the putrid smell of garlic in his mouth. She winced. "Now, you have a choice." he always asked that, every day after every meal. "You can either go solve puzzles with Thomas downstairs, or play tennis with Minho-oppa upstairs."

Her answer was natural, automatic. "Puzzles with Thomas."

He stood, "Very well. Follow me."

She followed him, flattening out her daisy-painted dress down the hallways and into the elevator. Entrance to: _Specialization Floor_ it said. There were over two dozen rooms, each equal in size and parallel to each other. Thomas got his own room, and she was always eager to find him, because he had all sorts of colorful puzzles and word searches in his room. He didn't complain like the others, and she was thankful for that. They had it good here, even if they didn't know what or where here was, they were clothed and fed.

Others weren't so compliant. Halfway down the hall she heard the high child's voice, a boy, fussing about. Abusing the tables, and banging his fists against the linoleum. His words were strange, and too adult to come out of such a young mouth.

"I bloody hate this place."

* * *

"Rise and shine, darling." although there wasn't an ounce of audible affection in the greeting. A hand vigorously shook her shoulder, and when she wouldn't relent the covers were stripped from her body, the cool air biting at her bare legs.

She moaned, and hugged herself whilst stuffing her face in the mattress. "You, you said I could sleep here!" she whined, her voice muffled from the pillow.

"I lied." the voice said simply, "c'mon, we don't have much time."

Strong, slender arms scooped her small frame, trying to bring her to her feet. But the girl was quicker, and automatically latched herself against the warm body, pressing her face to his neck. It was still dark, and she was very, very annoyed, but too exhausted to yell. "Come back to bed." she whispered tiredly. She didn't mean for it to sound so sensual, but how could it not, with her lips grazing against his Adam's apple and her hands grazing at the neck of his attractively messy bedhead.

The boy sighed, "I wish we could." and slowly inched her to the floor, she reluctantly complied, standing straight. "Hurry, go put on your shoes. And take this, you'll need the energy."

"Newt, why—" her question was cut off when he pressed an apple slice to her lips, and she opened her mouth in confusion, the tart juice filling her mouth.

"Let's go." and he took her hand, leading her out the Homestead.

It was still early, way too early in the morning. The sky was dark, illuminated by the minuscule fire torches and gas lamps throughout the Glade. The only ones awake were Theo and Newt. Theo frustratedly slapped the mosquitoes that were hungry for her blood, and quickly tied away her hair. "What are we doing out here?" she yawned.

Instead of answering, he pointed to the ground. "Push-ups, go."

"What?"

"If you don't want to be killed when the Grievers chase us in the Maze, you'll do push-ups." anything remotely affectionate was absent from Newt, his gaze hard. "That's what you want, right? To stay alive."

And suddenly, Theo understood what he was getting at. He wasn't speaking theoretically when he said he was going to make her train. He was going to be strict and hard on her, so she'll survive. And she did want to stay alive, she wanted the both of them alive. Wordlessly, she dropped to the ground and did ten push-ups. Newt snapped that her posture was too lax, and asked for another ten more.

"Run, run to the West Gate and back to me." he ordered before she had gotten up. "You have six minutes."

"But—"

"Five minutes, then."

Theo swallowed her tongue, and immediately complied, breaking in a sprint. Her throat burned like hell on the way back, but she kept her mouth shut.

"You took eight minutes." Newt stated. "Go again, keep your back straight. Light on your feet."

Oh, at that moment, he was really good at detaching himself from her. It only encouraged her to do more, if it helped any. But she was starting to breathe like a fish out of water, as if her lungs were cut open and deflated. She took another lap, and when she came back, Newt was taking his outer shirt off.

"Ten minutes." he said. "Match my pace."

It was amazing, and possibly shameful, that even with his limp he could still move faster than her. She grit her teeth so hard, she wouldn't surprised if her enamel weared into dust. She couldn't think, and every time she'd push forward she'd be knocked two steps back, Newt always four steps ahead. The ground elevated, or maybe it was too dark for her to notice, and she lost her footing, and landed face first in the dirt. Sweat smacked her back and lower legs, her knees brown with grime. She groaned, feeling the rocks dig into her skin, her chest tender and raw.

Newt crouched in front of her, his face devoid of compassion. "If you were out in that bloody Maze and fell, just like that, you would already be dead." he said icily, and ran ahead of her.

Back and forth, back and forth. From the Homestead to the West Wall. The Maze wasn't a straight line, and she realized this was all being done on purpose. Finally, Theo decided she had enough of the line-running, and cut through the middle of the Glade on a diagonal. She swerved past the Shack and bathhouses, and narrowly made it to the other side, just as Newt stopped jogging.

"I was waiting for you to do that." he patted the grass, and flexed his ankle. "Sit."

She didn't need to be told twice, and plopped next to him, breathing heavily. In a minute, the warmhearted young man she had grown to like returned with a small, crescent smile. He breathed in and out, slowly and calculatingly, telling her to follow his pace.

"Calm down, there's enough air for everyone. Put your hands on your head."

"I thought I was the Med-jack." she teased lightly, but did as she was told. She felt her body start to relax, and her inhales and exhales become less labored.

"That wasn't so bad, you did well." he said.

"You basically called me Griever-bait."

"I'm supposed to be tough on you, make you think you suck when in reality I'm pushing you to do better."

"Well, you did a good job at making me hate you." she grumbled, picking on a blade of grass.

Newt's fingers twitched next to hers, and he pivoted himself forward, and towered over her 5'1 frame. He bit his lower lip, and supported one hand on the wall, the other resting on her waist. "Do you hate me now?" he asked huskily, a voice no woman would be able to resist, rubbing slow circles on her hipbone.

Her body was on fire, her nails digging into her thighs in an attempt to hide that she was on edge. "Yes." she replied softly, unsteadily.

He smirked, "Liar." and leaned down to press his lips to hers.

They've never done it before, or at least they thought they never did. But when they kissed it was like the clouds parted on a rainy day, and pure instinct took over. It was sweet, like fresh berries, and almost childlike, if it weren't for the way Newt's hand was dangerously close to her middle. Both vulnerable and eager, completely immersed in their brief state of bliss.

Newt was the first to pull away, trying to compose himself like the gentleman he was. "Y'know, I never imagined I'd be doing, this." he confessed, gesturing to their state, "feeling a spark for a person who doesn't know herself as well as I don't know myself."

She placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "It's messed up."

"Completely shucked up." he agreed, pressing his lips to her temple. "It's like we're strangers with an affixation with nothing but their presences."

Reaching over to cup his cheeks she asked, "Since when have you been so analytical?"

"Love, I've always been this smart." he boasted playfully, wrapping his arms around her middle. "It's just that I get a little dazed up when I think of you." She buried her head in shoulder, noting the fact that he smelled clean, somehow. Their water supply was low, and many boys abandoned bathing altogether. "I'm going to miss this."

"It's not the end of us." she said, trying to stay optimistic.

"Alby mentioned his memories during the Changing." he explained, pulling her closer. "He called it, the Flare. Whatever it is, it's dangerous. What if we get it when we get out of here?"

"Too bad this wasn't a safe haven." as much as she hated being closed off, the Glade was all she ever knew up until this point. "I wouldn't mind staying here, even if it's for a little longer, just to be safe."

"You're only saying that now, I can't stand this place. I hate every minute, of every day." Newt replied bitterly. "Never have, never will. But if we have a chance, out there, I'm willing to take it. Flare or no Flare." Theo made things all the more bearable for him. "And we'll be doing it together."

"That's good." she said contentedly, feeling her eyes start to droop.

"Good that."

* * *

Theo nearly dropped the bowl of soup when she returned to Teresa's room.

Jeff, thoroughly defeated on the ground, clutching his parts. Clint, with his hands up in defense, dropping his notepad in the process.

And Teresa, up and awake, pointing the sharp end of a scalpel to their faces.

"T-Teresa." the female Med-jack gently put down the bowl, taking slow steps forward.

Teresa brandished the scalpel, pointing it threateningly towards her. "Don't move! Or I'll hurt you!" she said, her hair swinging wildly as she neared towards the window. Clint took this as an opportunity to scram, shuffling away as discreetly as possible.

"Calm down." Her steps slowed, and she put her palms out. "You're safe here." she said, even though she wasn't exactly sure what classified as safe anymore.

"What is this place? Who are you!"

And protocol was abandoned, and she frowned in confusion, dropping her arms. "You sure sounded like you knew me in your sleep, you called my name."

Her vibrant, multi-faceted blue eyes widened, as if she heard the worst thing ever possible. "You're lying!" and she stalked forward, scalpel aiming for her face.

"Wait, wait!" Theo winced, quickly retreating. "Thomas! You have to know Thomas, you called him too."

For a fraction of a second, her bold features softened over her porcelain skin. "Where is he?" she asked, gripping the scalpel with borderline instability. "Where's Thomas?"

"He went out in the Maze with Minho." Theo didn't have to be so specific with her reply, but figured the extra details would soothe the poor girl into believing they could trust each other. "But he should be out soon, and then you can talk to Thomas." Theo paused, her eyes darting between Teresa and the scalpel. "Or, are you talking to him now?"

At the mention of their telepathy, Teresa was stunned that she knew. Theo took this opportunity to swing forward, gripping Teresa's wrist hard enough for her to drop the blade. She cried out, and Teresa pulled at Theo's tank, stretching the fabric and under her skin. Her height advantage easily put her in control, as she pushed the smaller girl against the wooden bedframe, grabbing the scalpel and flying out the window.

"Thanks for helping." she moaned to Jeff, who was still on the floor.

"Can't… feel my balls." he groaned. "Shuck, this hurts."

"The bloody hell happened here?" Newt and Clint walked in, obviously too late. "Where's the girl?"

"She went to meet up with Thomas." Theo said, getting up. "Maybe with those two together they can remember something useful."

"They better." he nodded to the other two Med-jacks, but couldn't help but snicker at Jeff. "Congrats, Jeffie. You're the first guy in the Glade to get your ass kicked by a girl." he gave a quick wink to Theo. "I'm going to check on Alby again, and go find out what Thomas and his little girlfriend are up to." and he walked out, leaving the three to clean up the mess.

"This is all so crazy." Clint sighed, playing with the soup spoon, now cold. "It's like an unsolvable puzzle, and more and more pieces that don't seem to fit, keep popping up."

"Puzzle," Theo said to herself, looking between Clint and Jeff. Something struck her, as if she'd known it all along. If only she knew this sudden burst of inspiration would come now, she wouldn't be squealing on the floor like a little girl, startling the two other guys. "I got something, I'll be right back!"

Minho, she had to find Minho. She nearly crashed into Clint and a bunch of other Gladers on the way, but didn't stop until she reached the Runner's Map Room, banging on the steel door. The door opened, slowly at first, until Minho noticed who it was. His face was sunken and his cheeks smeared with dirt, showing that he just got back after a long run. "Theo," he narrowed his eyes, showing that he had no time for this. "you're not allowed to be here. Go away."

"Wait," she breathed, putting a hand on the doorframe. "Thomas told me that there's a pattern, the Maze changes every night." she pushed the door wider, Minho's grip grew slack. "The Creators wouldn't have made the Maze change just to confuse you."

"Thomas already suggested this." Minho shook his head, exhausted of any hope. He was tired of dead ends. "I've spent a lot of time looking, the Maze as far as we know it, is unsolvable."

There, he said it. He really was to his breaking point.

"But there's an exit." she tried again.

Defeated, he nodded, although he wasn't too sure himself. "Thomas, he found the Griever's home. Off the Cliff."

She didn't know what the Cliff was, but nodded anyway. "Then there is a way."

"Like I said, I've tried everything."

"Just because you've tried everything, doesn't mean I've tried anything." She was here for a reason, she kept telling herself. Just like any other Glader, she had a part, and she was going to deliver it.

He rolled his eyes, "Don't tell me you're capable of solving the Maze, Thomas tried to convince me earlier, and that shank's smart."

She grinned, "Depends. If you let me and Thomas in, I'm sure we can think of something."

The Keeper's nostrils flared, trying to remain stoic. "If I were a good little Glader who harped on the rules, I would ask Alby or even Newt for approval. Only Runners and leaders look at the maps, but it's getting late and—" Minho lifted his wrist, examining the plain but sleek digital watch, something only Runners and Keepers would wear. His expression suddenly shrunk, and asked Theo if the time on his watch was right.

"Why, I think so."

"No." one word was enough for his whole disposition to crumble. "No, no, no. Don't you see it!" he put his hands on his head, freaking out.

"See wha—" and Minho promptly grabbed her head, flexing it forward.

"Don't you see it? The shuckin' doors, they should've closed ten minutes ago!" it was weird, seeing the door open in the dark. But Minho was right, they should've closed at sundown. The West Gate remained stagnant, and eerily silent. "This isn't good, this isn't good." he said over and over, "C'mon, we have to go. They're probably barricading the Homestead by now."

"But—the maps!" Theo said, remembering that's what she ran all the way here for. "If the doors aren't closing it's more than enough incentive to hurry up and solve the maps."

He shook his head, reaching for her hand. "If there's no wall to protect us, the Grievers will be merciless. We have to go to the safehouse."

Theo frowned, slipping out of his grasp. She gave a weak smile for comfort. "I'll meet you there, I'll just go in and grab some things."

Minho sighed in frustration, his eyes darting between the wall and her. "If you're gonna be a hero, at least take this." he handed her a keyring, filled with at least five different keys. "The yellow one locks the door to the Maps, just in case." and he started jogging in place, ready to make a break for it. "You better come back alive, or Newt's gonna feed me to the Grievers!"

"I will!" she exclaimed, quickly running into the Maps room. It looked like a disheveled file cabinet, the way boxes and boxes were haphazardly strewn. She caught the strong, musty smell of dust and mildew and coughed, covering her nose with her shirt. Picking up the first paper, she read the number '5' scribbled on the corner. She picked the top off of another box, and found a '2.' There were boxes of fives and twos, she glowered at them. What sense did it make to have a box of the same sections copied over and over?

In total, there were least eight huge boxes arranged in a semi-circle around the room. There was barely any light seeping in the dark Maze Room, but she could distinguish by the number scrawled on the cardboard. One by one, she plucked a paper from each day from each box, one through eight, stacking them in numerical order. It took a little more time because it was dark and she didn't want to mess up, but she had to hurry. She heard the familiar Griever scream in the distance, multiple Grievers, and she started trembling, a '7' in her hands. _Keep going_.

Soon enough she had a stack of sixty-four maps, over a week of Maze-changing. She was about to reach for the one and start the process again when she heard a sickening crash. But it was inside, she froze. Another bang. Was there another room? Abandoning the last paper she weaved through the room, only to find the back door swung open, whoever was there had left.

In the person's way, he left a fire, which was currently eating away at the straw and wood wall. The papers closest to the wall started to catch on, and flames started eating away at the maps bit by bit. Theo was blinded by a wall of red and orange, white flames licking closer and closer to her feet. She heard the faint _click click click _of the Grievers, and distinct male screams.

Stuffing as many maps as she could in her medical bag she ran out the second door, coughing hysterically as the black air hit her lungs.

Her eyes were bleary and she was sweating through her shirt, trying to make out the Homestead in the distance. The Grievers, big, inhumanly sluggish creatures were treading the Glade, making their way to the Gladers' fortress.

_They probably boarded up all the walls._ She panicked, _even if I did make it in time, they wouldn't let me in. _

She caught sight of the concrete huts about two hundred feet beyond the Homestead, making out the distinct underground buildings, concrete and barred. Focusing on her destination, she patted the Maps to make sure they were still in her bag, and started running. Once she made it to the Slammer, she frantically pulled out Minho's keys, trying to figure out which one would unlock the cage.

"The black one." Teresa said, and Theo finally noticed that the formerly comatose girl was jailed up. "They locked me in with the black one."

Pushing the lock in, she swung the cage open and jumped in, then locked it from the inside.

After a few labored breaths the two girls sat in silence, the only discernible sounds being the Grievers and the screams of boys being taken by Grievers.

"Why are you here?" Theo finally asked, not meaning to sound accusing.

"Because it's my fault." Teresa replied simply, looking down at her knees.

"Is it?"

"Indirectly, yeah." she puffed a lock of that flew in her eyes. "I didn't specifically ask for a bunch of Grievers to kill everyone."

"Newt said this was the probably the safest place in the Glade." She closed her eyes, hoping that he was okay. She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. "Can Grievers produce fire?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then someone tried to burn the Maps Room on purpose." Theo frowned, "But who would do that?"

It was like talking to a wall, as she turned to Teresa, who seemed to be paying attention, but her eyes were obviously focused somewhere else. "Hm?" she finally said, turning towards the Med-jack.

"What? Did you tell Thomas what I just said?"

The girl glowered, probably annoyed that she constantly brought up their telepathy like it was a normal thing. "Yeah. But it doesn't matter anyway, he won't tell anyone. They'd think he's more crazy than normal." Teresa started shifting uncomfortably in the small hole, her thighs glued together.

"You okay? I can move if you—"

"I have my period." Teresa deadpanned.

"Oh, do you have a—"

"Nope."

Theo couldn't help but smile in such a disaster. Only she would be sentimented by the fact that she could finally talk to another girl about such matters. Digging into her bag she pulled out a thin pad. "Tampons are in the Homestead, I hid them under the sink so the guys wouldn't find them. But this will do, I'll turn around." and she pushed it across the cell, turning her back. She heard a brief, but stiff 'thanks' come from Teresa's mouth.

"We'll be here awhile." Theo said, pulling out the pile of maps she managed to salvage. She sighed, thinking about the fire, and how she wasn't able to put it out or get all the maps. "Can you ask Thomas if he has any clue about these maps?"

Teresa closed her eyes in concentration, clutching the plastic wrap in her hands into a little ball. "No, something's wrong. He's probably busy."

_Busy with the Grievers?_ Theo shook away the thought, and spread the maps like a deck of cards. "Fine, then I guess we gotta think for ourselves."

A sickening crash of wood upon glass was heard, and both girls tore their eyes away from the papers to notice that the Homestead had been cracked open by two Grievers. The gelatinous beasts started attacking the decrepit building, eating away at the splinters. Theo stood up, only to be dragged back down by Teresa, who sadly shook her head.

"You can't do anything for them. You'll get yourself killed before you get to the front door." Teresa sounded just as ashamed for staying in the Slammer, but it was for the best. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm worried about Tom just as much as you're worried about the blond boy."

Being rational was the best thing, as much as it hurt her to constantly hear screams and crackling fire outside of their shell. She patted her cheeks, and realized the tears that were steadily falling. Roughly wiping away at the skin, she pulled out a black pen. "Alright, let's look at these things until our eyes bleed."

They were awakened by the morning glow, despite there being no sun, it was enough light to irritate their eyes and force them awake. Maps blanketed their skin, and their hands were covered in ink and graphite. The faint smell of smoke wafted in their cell. Teresa woke quickly, trying to rouse Theo, who already trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She looked up, keys in hand.

"Boys, Grievers, code." Theo phrased sleepily, trying to coax herself into a sitting position.

A figure ran up to the Slammer, quickly putting a black key in the padlock. The person threw the padlock to who-knows-where, and lifted a hand to pull the taller girl out.

Half a second later, Theo was hoisted up before she could open her eyes and pulled into a familiar embrace.

"Shuck, Thea." Newt whispered so softly only they could hear, as he buried his nose into her dark locks. "Imagine my face when I heard Minho left you out in the Maze Room," he stopped for a millisecond to glare at said Asian, "and then to hear it was set on fire."

"At least she's alive." Minho bit back, although from the relief in his tone he was happy to know she was okay as well.

"Slim it, I still haven't forgiven ya." And he returned to his little bundle of hope, still holding her to check that she was real, warm, and alive. Theo laced her fingers around his waist, and she was so short that she could rest her head perfectly along his chest, feeling the way his heartbeat got slower and slower. "You're not hurt anywhere, are ya?"

He leaned down to nuzzle her forehead with hers, and that's when she noticed the white gauze taped to his temple. There was a patch of dried blood in the middle. She backed away like lightning, her eyes ignited in worry. "How the hell can you ask me that, what happened to your head?"

Newt chuckled, "You're cute when you're worried."

"That's not funny."

"Gally came back," Minho finally answered, bringing the two back to reality. His arms were crossed, his sunken eyes constantly shifting back and forth as if something were to jump right at him. "That shank tried to offer him to the Grievers. He probably burned the Maps Room too."

Theo felt so out of touch, she couldn't even remember the last time she had seen Gally. Furthermore, she couldn't even pinpoint the last time she had a conversation with Alby. "Well, what a slinthead." she spat, and just when she was trying to justify Gally's fears in turning around the Glade, he goes up and ruins it once more. "Next time you see him, give him hell."

Newt smiled proudly, as if to say "that's my girl" but all of a sudden someone started panicking.

"Where's Thomas?" Teresa asked, closing and opening her eyes. "Where is he? Something's happened to him." Both boys looked down, as if they were ashamed that they let her down, which only made Teresa even more frantic. "Tell me!"

"Tommy," Newt finally said, "he stung himself."

* * *

(a/n) One, FINALLY they kiss. Two, a lot of this chapter and last chapter I used quotes from _Peter Pan_ and _The Maze Runner_. Thank you, enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

Newt agreed to take Teresa back to the Homestead, or whatever was left of the Homestead, to see Thomas. Theo and Minho were organizing the stack of Maps, the remnants of it.

The stack was so small Minho was able to hold it all with one fist, the margins crumbling like sand. "Is this really it?" he asked with a scoff, only to drop the papers back on the dirt. "Nearly three years of hard work, all shuckin' down the drain."

"It's better than nothing." Theo replied, although she could understand his disappointment, all of his hard work to be fruitless. She picked up the darkest map, the one she had written all over, and held it out to Minho. "It was hard, but I tried tracing over maps one through eight. And even if it is just a coincidence, it's something."

Minho snorted, but evaluated the paper anyway. It was the entire Maze of day one, sections one through eight messily copied, overlapping each other like a multi-leveled labyrinth. Shaded in the middle, was a giant 'F.'

"Well then," he stared at the rest of the maps, which were hidden under his boot. "While we were busy defending ourselves from shuck Grievers, you two go out and play connect-the-dots." but he was smiling, something so strange but so uplifting becauses smiles were rare at this time. "It's something, alright."

"We didn't look at all the maps," and she kicked Minho's shoe away, bending to grab the papers. "but we can try working from what we have, at least for now. But we need filter paper, or parchment paper."

"... what?"

"Are boys not educated in the types of papers?" she shook her head, "You know, baking paper. Wax?"

A small 'o' formed on Minho's lips. "Oh, I guess. Frypan will get mad though."

"Are baking cookies that more important than solving the Maze?" she tapped her foot impatiently.

He rolled his eyes, trying to play off the fact that a girl was seriously trying to make him an idiot, and complied. "Fine, but we're going to Alby first. And we're running over there, get used to it." that same power resonated from Minho, and a part of him missed his morning and evening runs with her.

Alby had cooped himself up in his bedroom, which had somehow remained intact for the most part. The windows were shelled open and pointed outward with splinters. Minho didn't bother knocking (there was no door) and walked in, Theo trailing behind him like an extremely petite shadow. Peeking from his shoulder, she was shocked to find that Alby's head was wrapped with gauze as well.

"I was wondering when you'd show up." it was as if he were collecting himself all this time, trying to remain as resolute as possible. He barely glanced at the two before grabbing a crowbar from under the bed, and didn't hesitate to wedge it between the floorboards with a firm swipe. The wood broke open, half the 2x4 carelessly brought to the side.

Minho's eyes flickered at what was inside, "Whoa, are those."

"The maps?" It didn't quite sound like a question from Alby, "Yeah, I copied them just in case something like this happened." he easily lifted up the heap to the floor, kicking it to Minho, who didn't seem so enthusiastic that their leader seemed so conveniently prepared. "Get out of here, go find Newt and Thomas. Do what you want." Alby said, waving him off as if he didn't care. His gaze concentrated on Theo, however. "I need to talk to you for a bit, though. Hold up for a bit."

Minho's eyes searched for hers, who looked just as confused. The girl shrugged, and without realizing it, she was rubbing her arms for comfort, as if her body were shrinking into thin air. Hesitant, Minho lifted the box of maps in his sturdy arms, and walked out the room.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes boring into his.

He looked terrible, even worse than some of the other Gladers that have been stung in the past. His mind was spent, and his sanity running thinner than a wet noodle.

"You and Newt, I don't like it." And for some reason, Theo wasn't surprised. It didn't bother her particularly, she didn't need his opinion to mediate what she wanted, however she had a feeling Newt would think differently. "He needs to be a leader, I don't need you shuckin' anything up for us."

"That's something you can't blame me for." she replied tersely, "I think Newt is just passionate, but he isn't incapable of leadership."

"You sure have some nerve talking about him like that." Alby closed his eyes, as if he were reliving old memories. "I saw Thomas, during the Changing. On the other side," a shiver crawled up his spine, and he exhaled, "and if he somehow is connected to you, who knows what you were capable of in the past? What if you were one of those monsters that put us here?"

"Does it matter?" Theo whispered solemnly.

"No, it doesn't." the young man replied gruffly. "I'm not going to stop you from whatever you and Newt are doing. He's my best man, and I ain't stopping that shank for doing what makes him happy. He's done too much for me." he cut his sentiments short, and kicked away the crowbar by his feet. "If you really want to help, go work with the Med-jacks. They need you."

She nodded stiffly. "Thanks, Alby." she said, although she was half-certain she had done nothing remotely respectable to Alby, she still felt a lot of respect to their fallen leader. "For everything."

Nearly a quarter of the Glade's population were missing. In a matter of days, people she knew and walked passed every day, the charming smiles and even demonizing sneers were erased from the Glade, never to be found. The distinct smell of blood and antiseptic filled the air, along with burnt flesh and mangled remains. Baggers would walk in and out asking for disinfectant and masks, unable to take care of the massive amounts of remains all at once.

To the people who weren't injured, they simply carried on with their jobs. It was the only thing they could do, save for the Runners, who blended in with other tasks.

"We thought we lost ya out there." Jeff said between rounds, one boy leaving and another taking his place. "Glad to have ya, though."

The female Med-jack did not reply, but for a second stopped her meticulous work to flash the Keeper a smile, but he was already off bandaging another boy. She wiped the sweat off her brow with her arm, her hair carefully tied away in a tight chignon. The needle was slow, but mobile enough to not have the boy suffering in pain. Willing her hands to stop shaking, she tied the knot.

"I've never done stitches before," and she bit her lip as she pressed a light cloth to his forehead, "so I hope I did a good job."

"A nasty scar ain't nothing, better than when my head was gushin' out blood." her patient still managed to grin, and quickly grabbed his stuff to escape the stuffy room.

"Next!" she called like a conveyor belt, waiting for another Glader.

"Thomas is upstairs," Clint said, running a few sharp instruments under the sink. "You can check on him."

"Thomas is awake?"

"Been awake. Fastest recovery of the Changing I've seen." Clint stated, awed by the fact. "That dumb shank's up and about, been tellin' stories to the leaders."

Jeff scoffed, "He probably didn't go crazy because he already is."

Rolling her eyes, Theo pulled away from the ground, dusting off her knees. She gave them a quick wave before jogging up the stairs, hopefully with some answers. Without knocking, she opened the first bedroom where Teresa last resided, and the four of them were sprawled over the maps, with Minho cutting up strips of wax paper and Newt, Teresa and Thomas tracing.

Teresa's eyes were secretly gleaming towards Thomas with sheer admiration, probably the most profound emotion she had shown since last night. He made brief eye contact with her, before looking appreciatively at Theo. "You were always good at puzzles, just as I thought."

What was that supposed to mean? Thomas must know something from the Changing, and as she looked around she realized none of the people in the room seemed fazed by Thomas' comment. It was weird how everyone was still hunched over, tracing and retracing. It was almost childish, like a preschool project. But this was something way bigger.

"You're brilliant," Minho cut in, concentrating on getting one piece of wax paper in a perfect rectangle. "I could kiss you for this."

"Don't you bloody do it." Newt snapped, his face practically pressed to the paper as he traced a large 'A.'

"Do you guys need any help?" Theo asked, feeling like she walked too suddenly.

"We're almost done," Newt said, handing Teresa his completed map. "Can't have any more buggin' Grievers come any longer."

"Done? But it's only been—"

Minho checked his watch. "Three hours." he handed her a piece of lined paper, which held a series of words, the code to the Maze. She couldn't believe it, she was right about the pattern. It was an interesting set of words, but nonetheless the key to their future. She was both awed at herself and pressured by the fact that she did something no one else has done in over two years.

"Proud of ya, darlin'." Newt grinned, tugging his hand to hers.

Minho made a blatant gagging sound before the two shot him a deathly glare. Unfazed, he continued, "We leave tonight."

Theo paled, she knew leaving had always the goal, but that soon? The second-in-command didn't seem to notice her wavering, and nodded to his friend. "Yes. You and me will round up all the Gladers, as much as we can. I want a Gathering of all the Keepers within the next hour, to organize ourselves. Grab all the weapons we can hold. We'll convince them that it's better off having a chance in the Maze than no chance at all here." he squeezed the girl's hand one more time before forcing himself to let go. "We'll be back to get the last word out, ya here? By the time we get back be ready to bloody run, got that?"

"Right behind ya, bro." Minho pulled the two away, he knew any longer and they'd be stuck like glue, and pulled Newt out of the room, ready to spread the word. "Thomas, meet us later for the Gathering."

Theo gingerly sat down in between the two, like the point of a triangle. They were probably talking to each other, she mused, watching them pretend they didn't notice each other, but the way Teresa tried to keep her facade clear and Thomas' face a faint pink, it was pretty obvious.

"Thomas," finally breaking into her conversation, and feeling a complete third wheel she asked, "what do you remember during the Changing?"

"Well, essentially everything." as if he couldn't believe it either, that he was still up and about, nonconvulsive, and able to solve puzzles like it was normal. "We did this." he said, and looked to Teresa as if she could hold him together, but she looked away, ashamed. "And I, I brought you here."

"Maybe it was for the better." she said, hoping Thomas wasn't blaming himself. "Otherwise, these shanks wouldn't be getting out of here at all."

"Don't flatter yourself." he replied to her joke with a chuckle.

Teresa looked about done, and re-checked her work. She held up a paper, and in big bold letters, it read _Push._ "Theo," it was the first time Teresa said her name, so casually and almost as if they were meeting old friends, "I want you to stay with me when we go into the Maze. We'll solve the code while the boys fend the Grievers off."

It was nothing derogatory, and they all knew it. She couldn't fight a Griever, much less run into the Maze with Runner speed. She was better off doing technical stuff. "Count on it." she said determinedly, the anticipation crawling into her skin like an incessant bug. "When do we go?"

"Eager, aren't we?" Thomas said.

"Eager to get the hell out of here, yeah."

It was nearly sundown when most of the Gladers were crowded against the West wall, both determined and terrified. Thankfully, most of the Gladers were all for going out with a bang, save for a couple of stray guys. Alby was to the far right, his back to the Maze, looking forlornly to the Glade. It was desolate, like an abandoned farm. The sky was a sickly grey and the air was so stagnant and thick you could cut through the humidity with a quick swipe. The days of constantly trying to live ignorantly, taking each day with a grain of salt and hoping the next day would just be peaceful, was melting like butter through every person's fingertips.

They weren't leaving until it got dark, because then the Griever hole would be clear with the lot of them running around. Frypan had prepared a last meal before they set off, and they all ate with vigor. They didn't know the last time they'd enjoy a solid meal.

A certain pair cooped themselves up in one of the bedrooms, huddled under the blankets.

"We'll be okay?"

"Yeah." a pause. "We will be."

"We will be okay." The blond said again, his hand whitening against his spear, as if he needed to double-check that this was really happening, "It'll be okay." he had to convince himself, to say it over and over until he believed it. Disgusted, he threw the offending weapon to the side, the wood responding with a dull clang.

He shook the girl next to him, placing a gentle arm around her frail shoulders. "Thea," he said, almost desperately. "Say something."

She was unusually quiet, and almost tranced into a state of numbness. Every now and then she would shift and nod in acknowledgement, when Newt would repeat the code over and over so it'd commit to memory or just talk about the plan of action. At the very least she continued to hold his hand, which was beautifully warm and full of affection.

"Newt." she finally said, "I'm scared."

"It's normal," he chuckled, although there wasn't much humor in it. "We're only human."

"I'm terrified." she sniffled, and sharply let go of her hand to rub her eyes. "I'm going to die."

Frustration whipped through Newt's eyes for allowing her to think that way, and even more so his stomach churned uncomfortably at the mere thought, anyone could die. "Who said anything about dying?" he replied listlessly, trying to hold her hand again.

She didn't squeeze back. "It's comes with the mission. This is practically suicide, but it's the only way."

Newt flinched at her reply, trying to suppress bad memories, and held her hand even tighter. "We all have to die sometime." he said bitterly, "trust me though, it won't be today."

"I'm not giving up," she insisted, more to herself than Newt. "But I'm not as fast as Minho, or smart as Thomas, or as mentally strong as Teresa."

"Honestly, Thea. I'm pretty fed up with your buggin' Teresa-complex." Newt admitted, pressing his nose into her hair. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Minho bloody hates her." he could laugh at the thought of Minho the hothead, trying to refrain from being too much of a jerk all at once. "I kinda like the girl, she isn't bad at all. And her and Tommy boy look pretty shuckin' cute together. But I don't want her or anyone else to be the reason you don't feel capable. You're just as strong as any other Glader."

She frowned, feeling his hot breath tickle her neck. "I hope you don't feel the need to protect me."

"I wish." and he relented her, falling back onto his bed in an exhausted heap. He folded his hands under his head, his maroon eyes fixated on the ceiling. "You won't need it."

"Good. You're our leader, no matter what anyone else thinks." and she meant it, for all the times that he's acted like a coward, losing hope as quickly as a fallen soldier, he's grown a lot in a matter of days. "People look up to your kindness and amiability, not many people look up to leaders for that." he was no muscular Minho, Alby who demanded for authority, or Thomas, reasonable and calculating. "You have something that holds everyone together, which is powerful enough."

He sure hoped so. Carefully placing a hand over Theo's stomach, he pushed her into a lying position, so both their heads were cradled under the same pillow. He wrapped his own arm around her, the bed was a tight fit, but it gave them all the more excuse to be near each other. "When we get out of here, what do you want to do?"

"We?" she liked the idea of 'we.' "Hm, well I want to study."

Rolling his eyes, he pinched her cheek. "I had a feeling you'd say something lame like that."

"Learning isn't lame." she retorted, smacking his hand away. "What do you want to do?"

"Go on a date." he replied easily, and tilted his head to get a better view of the ceiling, as if he were watching their life story unfold. "A real one. With chocolate cake and flowers, not those damned weeds we always have to pull. And you'd wear one of those long things," he held his hands in the air, drawing a picture with curves and pointed ends.

"A dress?" Theo replied, unsure.

"Yes, a dress. I bet you'd look beautiful in one of those."

She scrunched her nose at how unbelievably cliché he was sounding. However, he was absolutely enthralled by the idea, as if it were a fairy tale come true. He's innocent, like her, a young child who wants to live, really live. "Then, I guess we gotta survive." she said, a smile finally cracking.

"That's always been the plan, love." Newt shifted on his side so that their legs were tangled in the sheets, and kissed her.

There was something sweet and overly buoyant about kissing each other. When their feelings were raw and open like this, it was a feeling so shy yet so addictive that they willed to keep moving. As if he were a magnet, Theo pressed more of herself onto him, gathering solace in all their warmth. They were inexperienced, and sometimes hesitant since the last time, but nevertheless always full of passion and vigor.

Left red and hopelessly drowsy, the girl pressed her ear to his chest, feeling the soft lub-dub of his heartbeat lulling her away. "Go find Alby. He probably needs you more now than I do." although the way she clutched his shirt told otherwise, she knew that the former leader needed something of substance to keep him motivated, and Newt had that.

"Bugger, Thea." he rested his chin on her head. "Why can't you be selfish for once?"

"I will be, when we don't have to worry about this buggin' Maze." she teased lightly, running a finger down the cottony fabric. "You should go, though. You have enough time, if you don't do it now you'll regret it."

"You know me too well." Newt reluctantly got out of bed, but not before pressing his lips firmly against hers for a final time. "Probably even more than I know myself." and before he had any second thoughts he bounded through the doorway, and gazed at Theo, who was still watching, curled up in his sheets. He looked around the room, absorbing it one last time. "In a way, I'm going to miss this."

* * *

"Glad you guys are here." Theo said, one hand on her hip. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."

Clint and Jeff exchanged knowing smiles. "Med-jacks stick together."

Theo held up the long, sharp blade which rested cooly against her palm, the reflection shining and diffracting. It looked awkward and misplaced on her person, as if her body were never designed to fight. Chuck as well, who was by her side, sucking his cheeks in anticipation.

"Guys," It was Alby, who for those few moments pulled himself together. "Move out!"

It was simple, brief, and like a shotgun pulling racers to the track. They ran.

* * *

(a/n) And I hate to say, that this is the ending of (part one.) Thank you guys so much for the wonderful response! I know I never really alluded that this fic will be ending, and it's kind of a mind dump and a really quick ending, but I never do well with sticking to the plot because I feel like it's redundant to requote and redo. I may or may not leave this story complete/incomplete, depending on when I feel like uploading the next chapter, or if I feel like leaving the ending like such. I do have the first chapter in draft mode, however the plot itself for the next chapters on are virtually nonexistent. I don't know if I will be continuing this fic, but I love this fic dearly. Thank you for this wonderful journey!


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